


Don't Close Your Eyes

by elysedc



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV), Walking Dead (comic)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble, Existentialism, Explicit Language, F/M, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Gore, Multi, Sexual Content, Suspense, Violence, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysedc/pseuds/elysedc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabble series following an original character who joins a ragtag group of survivors as they fight for their lives in the zombie apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carl Gets Shot

 

_**  
Don't Close Your Eyes**_

* * *

  **Day 68 [Day 0 is Global Outbreak]**

* * *

I entered the house, adrenaline and creeping fear pulsing through my limbs. I clenched my fists, hoping to rid myself of the wooden feeling in my joints. "Where's Carl?"

"He's seizing!" someone shouted from my left.

"My father's workin' on him – he's in there with his parents," said the girl, Maggie, the one who rescued Andrea and picked up Lori on her horse.

"What can I do?" I asked, anxiously running through my rudimentary first aid knowledge _._  I could be an extra set of hands, at the very least. "Blood? I'm A positive!"

"Not now, take these towels to the big sink in the back and wash them while we stitch up your friend," Maggie said, thrusting several soiled towels into my arms.

"Shane?" I asked the room at large.  _What the fuck is happening…_

"Is that Rick's friend?" Maggie asked, while packing a dopp kit with the essentials. "He and Otis are at the high school, gettin' surgical supplies for Carl," Maggie explained. "Here, take these, too," Maggie said, stacking bloody sheets on top of the towels in my arms.

"Make sure to use bleach," said another woman before hurrying into Carl's makeshift hospital room.

"Big sink, bleach, got it." I glanced at Glenn, silently asking:  _Are these people safe?_  He made a weird sort of nod-shrug at me before I bolted around the corner, bile rising in my throat. I took that to mean acceptance for what, surely, we both already knew - we don't have time to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All credit goes to where credit is due. The comic book "The Walking Dead" is the property of creator Robert Kirkman. The television show (based on the comic) "The Walking Dead" is the property of creator Frank Darabont and AMC. The ideas and quotations used from the show belong to their respective owners - no copyright infringement is intended (as, clearly, I am not making money off of this.) Emily and Travis are my own original characters. It's currently rated T, as there is no, ahem, mature content at this time. However, considering this originated as a way to get into Jon Bernthal's pants... you should expect that to change at some point.
> 
> I apologize for this long AN. This was originally intended to be a drabble series (hence, the first couple of "vignettes" posted here). Cut to - 10,000 words later. Yeah. After chapter 1, you can expect it to continue in a linear fashion until we meet up with the first chapter posted here, day 68. I hope that clears up any lingering confusion about the timeline. Just think of this chapter as a "flash-forward." You can also expect the upcoming chapters to be much, much longer. As I've already written the majority of the rest of the story, you can expect this fic to be updated regularly about once a week. And I hope you enjoy!


	2. Oblivious

**Day 2**

**Oblivious** **_(flashback - Emily)_ **

"Are you kidding me with this traffic? Holy hell!" Emily burst, wriggling in her seat. The car was hot and stuffy, and Emily felt cramped. She jiggled her legs around.

Travis laughed; then sighed. "The TBS people are going to kill us. I tried calling to reschedule, at this point we might as well head for the airport and back to LA, but no one is picking up at the office. They're gonna be pissed when you don't show."

"Well, they're the ones not answering their phone," she huffed petulantly. "I mean really, who in this business doesn't answer the phone? Or at least pay someone to answer the phone."  _Stupid TBS. Getting us stuck in this never-ending..._ "What is this anyway? I tried checking Google maps on my phone, to see when this traffic lets up, but I don't even have service out here. We've practically fallen off the map!" she said exasperatedly, shooting Travis a pointed look.

"Hey, that motel was very homely. You even got recognized a couple times," he teased.

She smacked him in the arm. "Oh, shut up." She fiddled with the radio station. "Come on, come on, Taylor Swift!" she muttered. Travis groaned. "I'm sorry, but everything out here in the BOONIES," she said sarcastically, "is country. If I'm gonna be trapped in here, I might as well jam out to my girl T-Swizzle, and blast you with as much estrogen as possible." She tapped her chin with mock seriousness. "It's too bad there's so little room for danc- oh! Yes!" She turned the volume up excitedly and whipped her hair around, belting out with the radio:  _"Can't you seeeeee that IIIII'm the ooooone who understands you..."_

Travis put his head in his hands.


	3. I Think We Need To Get Out Of This Car

 

**(Day 2, late at night)**

Travis scrolled through the stations, looking concerned. Emily didn't react, too bored to say anything. She had stopped really listening after a couple of hours. One Taylor Swift song in two hours and thirteen minutes isn't worth it.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing but country here. I could try searching through the bags to find the iPod connector thingy if you really want," she offered, pushing her hair up and out of her face.

"I'm not looking for music," he said distractedly, flipping through the AM dial. "I'm trying to find a news station."

Her brows knit together. "You think there's something wrong? We've only been stuck for about two hours." Well, that is kind of a long time.

"Yeah, but we're in Atlanta, not LA. I don't think this kind of thing happens here. And on top of that," he said, now searching even more intently, "we haven't moved at all. This isn't the same kind of traffic, Em. And where the hell is the news?" he asked in frustration.

She turned in her seat, trying to look behind her. "Ugh, this is stupid," she muttered, before finally opening the car door.

"What are you doing? Emily, we really don't need extra distractions right now, I don't want to deal with fans," he pleaded with her.

Because I have sooooo many, she thought, rolling her eyes. She ignored him, sliding out of the car. "If more than five people recognize me, you can buy me drinks on the plane home."

"What?" he said, angry now. "That doesn't even make sense!" he shouted after her.

She strode off, walking through the gridlock traffic. Her eyes widened at the extreme traffic behind them, which stretched on for miles. Well, there's gotta be a news van or a police car in there somewhere…Ooh, maybe even a firetruck…She thought, smirking at the thought of making friends with some firefighters. She loved a man in uniform.

"Wait! Emily, come back here right now!"

Emily froze, unnerved by the amount of panic in his voice. She hurried back to the car. "What? What is it?"

"Shh, listen!"

Behind all the static on the radio, Emily vaguely recognized the alarm denoting the emergency alert system, and then- crik-crsh- _ **and we are being told**_ -crsh- _ **to Atlanta, where you will find**_ -crik- _ **by the govern**_ -crsh-shkrr- _ **have set up**_ -shrik-crsh- _ **stay away from those infected**_ -crsh-shkrr-

"What was that about... infected?" Emily asked, as she and Travis shared a look of apprehension.

Travis glanced around nervously at the gridlock traffic they were essentially trapped in. "I think we need to get out of this car."


	4. Infection

**  
Day 3, night**

They made their way through the throngs of people milling about, looking for light in the dark maze of cars.

"Okay, so the woman in the red car with the baby told me her husband works at a hospital, and that there's this infection...more like an epidemic, I guess, spreading around. It's really, really bad, apparently," Emily rambled, going through their luggage for anything useful. "I started freaking out, thinking like, 'Oh god, look at all these people, if there's some rampant infection spreading around we should have stayed in the car,' but she said it's spread through bites?" Emily looked around, clearly unsettled. "So…um, I think it might be like rabies? Just...be wary of anyone foaming at the mouth," she quipped, packing the various items into a backpack.

"So where is she going?"

"Well I guess her husband stayed behind at the hospital to treat the infected, but everyone who isn't infected is supposed to go to a refugee center they set up in Atlanta," she said, stuffing the backpack with her water bottle and the various sundries strewn around the inside of the car. "Travis, this is like, really bad," she said, wrestling the zipper closed. "I mean, a refugee center?" She looked up at him finally, sounding alarmed. "That is messed up."

"So, all these people are trying to get to a refugee center, traffic has been at a standstill for at least twenty-four hours, and no one has any idea what's going on," he said, looking distressed. "I think we better make a plan b, look for a place to stay, get some more food. We can regroup from there."

"Yeah, definitely. Let's split up," Emily suggested, hitching the backpack over her shoulders. "I look less threatening without some dude trailing me like a security guard, anyway," she teased. "Go...charm some old ladies or something, and see if you can't get them to give you their purse candies. I'm starving."

"Duly noted," he shot back. "If you find anything, holler."

"Got it."

She squinted into the dark and spotted a police car.  _Score_. She headed over to it, hoping she wouldn't be interrupting something important. Upon seeing that the driver's side door was open, she approached him.

"Um, hi," she said with a shy smile. "You gettin' anything on that radio?" she asked, immediately falling prey to her nervous habit of biting the inside of her cheek.

"Nuthin'," he answered, still looking at the radio, his large hands fiddling with the dials. His short, dark hair left his face unobscured, and Emily could see he was quite handsome, but tough looking. She noticed his arms, muscle-y and bulging out of his brown and khaki short-sleeve uniform, and thought he looked like the ass-kicking type. Her heart rate increased, and she couldn't tell if it was because she was intimidated, or she just thought he was hot. She hoped he didn't think she was trying to start any trouble, but he didn't seem to be on patrol or anything at the moment.

"Big surprise there," came a voice from the other side of the car. Emily looked up to see a tall, thin woman making her way towards them around the front of the car. "Hi," she said with a kind smile, swinging her long, brown hair over her shoulder and offering a hand to Emily. "I'm Lori, this is Shane," she said, indicating the officer she had just spoken to.

"Hi Lori, Shane," Emily answered with a grateful smile and a handshake. "I'm Emily. My friend and I were on our way to the airport, we didn't even know about this mess when we got stuck in the traffic," she explained. "Thought we'd try and figure out what was going on. Apparently there's some...some kind of infection?" she asked worriedly, taking a half-step back. "Oh- Are you guys infected? I probably should have asked that, before…" she said, trailing off.

Shane and Lori exchanged a look. "Where have you  _been_  for the past couple of days?" Lori asked.

"Um, shooting a pilot? I was pretty much locked in the studio for a good sixteen hours, and then I went back to my hotel to get some sleep. We were supposed to leave for the airport this morning, but now..." Emily waved a hand at the mess of cars behind them. "So, no luck with the radio?" she asked hopefully.

"Nuthin'," Shane repeated. Lori made a small sound of discontent, and he looked at her and shook his head, disagreeing with her clearly annoyed sentiment. "No, there's...there's nothin'," he explained. "The emergency broadcast system stopped,  _and_  that recording about the refugee center..." he said, getting out of the squad car. "It's all gone."

Lori and Emily exchanged similar looks of shock.

"Um...do you mind if I stick with you guys?" She asked Lori, twisting her hands, and feeling considerably more anxious. She looked back at Shane, continuing, "I'm, I'm not from around here..."

Lori nodded, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"That's fine. I'm gonna go up the road and see what I can see," said Shane, already heading up the road.

"I'll come with you," said Lori, hurrying after him. Emily followed them back to a couple of kids sitting in the open trunk of a hatchback.

"Here, I must have forgot to pack those MRE's, I found these in my purse," said a woman with unusually short hair, offering a granola bar to Lori.

"It's all right," said Lori, shaking her head. "Um, listen do you mind keeping an eye on Carl for a minute?"

The woman nodded, looking questioningly between Emily and Lori.

"This is Emily. She's gonna be sticking with us for a while?" Lori finished her sentence like a question, looking to Emily for confirmation, who nodded vigorously. "Emily, this is Carol and her daughter Sophia, and that's my son Carl," she said, tousling his hair. "Shane and I are gonna go scout up ahead a little bit and see if we can find someone who knows what's going on."

"I wanna go with you," he protested, his voice cracking just slightly at the end. He looked so scared, and Lori looked so sad. Emily's heart squeezed at the sight of them.

"Mm-mm," she disagreed, pressing her lips together into a straight line. "Mm-mm." She leaned down and kissed him on the head.

"Hey, " said Shane, putting a hand on Carl's head, "I'll be back before you know it, okay little man?" He clapped Carl on the shoulder. "Huh?"

Carl nodded and turned reluctantly back to Emily, Carol, and Sophia, while Shane and Lori started up the road.

"Your dad's nice," Sophia said to Carl.

"Shane's not my dad," Carl responded quickly. He paused, dropping his gaze. "My dad's dead."


	5. I Guess Atlanta's Out

**  
Day 3, later that night**

After waving Travis over to their spot, Emily leaned against the car next to where Carl was sitting.

"I've got some Sun Chips in my bag if you're hungry," Emily offered quietly.

"I'm okay, thanks," said Carl, not sounding okay at all.

"You know, if someone doesn't eat them they're gonna get all squished in there," she said with mock solemnity. "And as much as I'd love a bag of cheese dust...I'm just kidding. I really  _don't_  love bags of cheese dust."

Carl barely cracked a smile, but he relented. "All right. Thank you," he said politely.

"No problem, kiddo."

Emily smiled at Sophia, looking to see if she also wanted a snack, when Sophia's shy smile lit up in recognition. "Hey! Are you the girl in that movie? The one where the kids rob the bank?" she asked excitedly. Emily stalled, trying to think of a plausible denial or excuse, and failing miserably. Instead, she just sat there, cringing internally, while Sophia took her silence as confirmation. "You were! We watched it at my friend Jessie's sleepover last weekend!"

"I can't believe that's still on TV," she said, shaking her head genially. "I'll have to say something to my agent once I get back to LA," she said, grinning conspiratorially at Sophia.

"You're going to California?" Sophia asked. "Do you have your own plane? Can we come with you?" she asked quickly, her eyes shining with excitement.

Travis and Emily laughed, albeit halfheartedly. Emily sat down next to Sophia. "Sophia, I hate to tell you this..." she said, pausing for effect, "...but I _think_  we missed our flight."

It worked. Carol, Sophia, and Travis laughed, and even Carl giggled a little.

_CRACK._

_"_ What was that?" asked Carol concernedly, reaching reflexively for Sophia. They looked around the side of the car to see a group of men fighting, two of whom were definitely throwing punches, and Lori and Shane hurrying back to the car.

"We gotta get outta here," Travis muttered under his breath.

But this sentiment was interrupted by the sound of helicopters flying overhead. They watched as the helicopters flew over the length of cars and toward the city of Atlanta. Something flashed in the distance.

"That's not lightning," Lori said, her eyes wide and fearful.

"You stay with me now, c'mon," Shane commanded as he followed the choppers, moving deftly through the cars to get a better look. Lori ran after him, and Emily, anxious to find out what was happening, followed along.

They ran into the woods and up a hill, where they could see the city of Atlanta from above, its rolling hills and high-rises flickering in the distance.

"Oh my god," said Lori in disbelief. Emily brought her hands to her mouth in shock.

"Oh...no..." Shane choked. "They're dropping napalm in the streets."

 


	6. Good Cop

 

**  
Day 62**

Shane awoke to a panicked-sounding whisper.

"Shane?"

"What? Are they back?" he asked urgently, already unzipping his tent. A pretty brunette knelt outside his tent, biting her lip.  _Shit_.

"No, sorry, it's just me, I- is it okay if- can I come inside?" she asked, unable to keep her eyes on Shane for more than a second before looking behind her almost spastically.

He hesitated. He almost said no.

"Please?" she said, panic further cracking her already shaky exterior. She looked over her shoulder quickly.  _Shit, shit, shit_.

He slid over, letting her in, before quickly zipping the tent door closed.

"I'm sorry to just…I'm sorry," she whispered, scooching away from the tent entrance.

He stared in her direction in the darkness.

"Do you think…um, would you mind a lot if I… stayed here tonight?"

"Ah...I thought maybe Andrea..." he trailed off.

She looked at him with a haunted expression, and he kept the rest of that thought to himself.  _Thought maybe there was some room in the camper, since Andrea's busy kneeling next to her dead sister?_ Good one.

"I just thought...you were guys were close..." Shane attempted lamely.

"I think Andrea's kind of busy at the moment," Emily whispered darkly.

_Busy. Rrrrrright. Busy waiting to blow Amy's head off._

"I'm just, uh, kind of busy right now," he lied, swallowing thickly. "You got Lori..." As he said it, he realized it sounded like he was trying to kick her out. Which, no offense, he kind of was.

"Please don't make me leave," she whispered, clearly suppressing tears.

Shane sighed.

"I won't take up any room at all," she whispered urgently. "I'm really small."

Shane rolled his eyes. Duh. "When's the last time you slept, girl?"

Emily just stared at him, blinking once, but otherwise not responding.

_Sooo, not lately, I take it._

"I don't have a gun," she whispered fiercely. "I can't even shoot. I don't have- I can't-" she whispered brokenly. Shane noted her shallow breaths and tensed fists, recognizing the classic symptoms of an anxiety attack. The girl was coming apart at the seams.

"Alright, it's okay," he said, attempting to calm her down. He just barely touched her shoulder when she jerked away from him violently. "Whoa, whoa, easy there. It's okay," he said.

"OH..." she breathed. "Holy crap, I, oh my god, I-I-I didn't see your hand in the dark, I didn't know what...Jesus Christ..." She said, breathing quickly.

"Alright, take a breath," he said, attempting to calm her. ' _Bout as skittish as a deer, this one_.  _Can't blame her, though, after what happened…_  "Emily, look at me, I need you to take a deep breath, alright?"

Emily nodded, breathing less sharply now.

"A nice big one, there we go, let's try that again, huh? Deep breath," he instructed, his training kicking in instinctively. She complied, taking deep breaths now.

"Now don't...scream or nothin', we know that draws 'em and we don't need to draw attention-"

"I won't scream," she whispered.  _Well at least there's that,_ he thought.

"Okay, good," he shot back.  _I really don't want to deal with this right now..._ Well, the only thing that mattered was that Lori and Carl were safe. He could handle one night with a crazy chick. Not like he never had before. "You...you...are you okay?" he asked uncomfortably.

"I...yeah," she said, hugging her knees in real close to her chest. She looked at him. "I'm just...so scared," she choked, her eyes brimming with tears now. "All the time."

 _Aw, Shane, don't be an ass_ , he thought with a twinge of guilt.

"They were so close, I didn't see them until…" She shivered. "I didn't even know what…and then Amy," she gasped, her tears spilling over now. "And there was nothing we- but Travis tried- he- he just wanted-" Her nails were digging into her arms now, she was holding herself together so tight. "I can't- I can't close my eyes. Not ever."

 _Poor girl just lost the only person left in her life, watched Amy get brutally murdered by those things, hadn't slept in at least two days, tremblin' like a leaf, and here I am, ready to turn her away._  "I know," he said, scooting next to her, feeling like he should do something more to comfort her. "It's okay. Here, I don't wanna scare you," he said, showing her his arm before he reached it across her shoulders.

"Oh, yeah I..." she settled her head against his chest. "Thanks," she mumbled wetly.

They sat like that for a while, Shane getting more and more tired by the second.

"Why don't you try and get some sleep, huh? I'll, uh...I'll be here, alright? I won't go anywhere," he promised.

After a couple more minutes of cajoling from Shane, she eventually relented, and they situated themselves under the thin blanket. Emily stayed balled up, unwilling, or unable, to touch neither Shane, nor the side of the tent.

"I'm not gonna…" he trailed off, feeling a touch insulted. "I don't bite."  _I'm not some perv. You came to my tent. C'mon now._

She slowly unwound her arms from around her legs.

"Emily, if you don't sleep, you  _will_  collapse, I promise you that," he said, trying to keep the edge of frustration he was feeling out of his voice. "Just…try to relax, huh?" he said, gently pushing some loose strands of hair away from her face. The crease between her brows softened. "Try to relax." He continued stroking his thumb around her temple until her breathing turned slow and deep, and he barely had time to close his eyes before he passed out.


	7. Shane Catalog's Emily's Assets

 

**Day 63 (Morning)**

Shane rolled over quietly, careful not to wake her up. He was already sitting up when he froze, wondering if he shouldn't just wake her. What would happen if she woke up and he wasn't there?  _I just have to pee, goddammit_ , he thought resentfully. But she would flip, for sure. She wasn't in the most stable place at the moment, not that he could blame her. But why…why  _his_ tent?

He looked at her. She had long eyelashes. Pretty face. Bit of a pimple brewing near her temple, in the place where where he must have been rubbing his thumb last night.

 _Damn, she still had_ **_acne_** _. She was so_   ** _young_** _._

He tried to keep that in mind as his eyes wandered down to the rest of her, easily visible through the thin blanket. Fine, he could focus on flaws… He supposed she was a little too skinny… just like Lori.  _Not like we have a surplus of food, though_. And while she was asleep… _she just looks so little_ , he thought.  _Even_   _her damn bones look small._ He glanced down at his wrist to compare the size, and almost laughed. She looked…what was that word? _Vulnerable_.  _Fragile, maybe?_   _Like she wouldn't be too hard to break._  Jesus, with what they were up against… no  _way_  she could survive alone for very long.

Well, okay, maybe she couldn't defend herself physically, but she joined a group for protection.  _Okay, she's smart. What else?_  Shane thought about it. _She's funny._  Whenever she was around, she made whatever they were doing more enjoyable. That is, she used to, until she experienced her first walker attack and lost her mind. Everyone freaks out the first time, but you get over it eventually.  _If you live_ , he thought grimly.  _Good thing she stayed behind during those trips into town._  She was pretty resourceful. The kids liked her, so she was a good babysitter – kept their attention, kept 'em from wandering off. Played with Carl, braided Sophia's hair. She cared about people, that they were happy - she cared that Shane was happy, even in this wasteland. She had looks, course she did, little 'Miss Hollywood' an' all…although it occurred to him that looks could be a bad thing in this world. Pretty little thing like her could get snatched right up.

 _No_. He felt sick just thinking about it. He couldn't just let that…

 _Don't you start caring for something, Shane, you can't have anything, not in this world. Nothing lasts here_. His mind cruelly showed him images of Lori and Carl, Lori's face, laughing…

 _Not mine_ , he thought savagely. Fine, then. She better make damn sure she's careful.

Why the hell did she come to his tent?  _She coulda gone to Glenn's tent, he woulda been more than happy, if she was really worried she coulda gone to the RV, but no, she had to come to_ ** _my_** _tent…_

Her eyes suddenly opened, closed immediately, and then opened again real small. She blinked a few times.  _Is that what my eyes look like in the morning? All fluttery and shit?_

"Mornin'."

"Morning," she said, ducking her head shyly.  _Oh she's got the looks alright, but she definitely don't know how to use 'em. At least, not in a dangerous way._

And then he has to say something else because now he's thinking about Emily and her body and her using it against  _him_  in a  _dangerous_ way-

He coughed and shook his head. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah, about that…" she paused, looking unsure. "I'm really sorry I just burst in here last night, I just-"

"It is no problem," he interrupted. "But as long as it's okay with you, I gotta take care of some business," he said, already unzipping the tent.

"Oh- please. Please do," she replied awkwardly.

They spent the day burying their dead, and burning the walkers. Even though there was no difference.


	8. Round Two

**  
Day 63 (Night)**

"Shane?"

Shane unzips his tent to find Emily. She looks more hopeful than crazed this time, though she can't help but check over her shoulder every so often.

Shane sighs. "Fine," he says, resigned. So much for just the one night.

They sit down.

"Thanks," she says with fervor, and he knows she means it.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, but he smiles a little. "You don't just get to stay here for free. What's in it for me?" he asks.

"What's in it for you?" she repeats questioningly. "I wasn't aware…that you were looking for anything?" she says, a note of apprehension creeping into her voice.

 _Good thing I'm such a nice guy_ , he thinks sardonically.

"Yeah, I am," he continues, enjoying her nervousness just a little bit. "Tell me a joke."

"A joke?" she repeats, looking surprised.

"How about a story."

"What kind of story?"

"I don't know, tell me something about Hollywood," he says, smirking.

"Well, if by Hollywood you mean the kids' heist movie I shot when I was fifteen…" she trails off, her eyebrows raised. "I'm not really sure if that counts." She contemplates for a moment. "I did shoot a pilot right before-"

"That, see that sounds  _so weird_  without the Hollywood context," he points out.

This makes Emily smile. She smiles at  _everything_  he says. She smiles at other people, too…but she's sleepin' in his tent, layin' right next to him…he swallows, his throat feeling sticky all the sudden.

Shane is painfully aware of the fact that in any other time, in any other context, he would have made a move. In fact, he would have made  _several_. Hell, a rebound is just what he needed. So he isn't sure what's stopping him now. Maybe it was the thought that had it been any other time, in any other context, she wouldn't be here.

* * *

"Is it okay if I come with you on watch?"

 _Sigh_. "Why?" he asked, as he slipped out of the tent. "You're gonna get cold."

"I won't complain," she said, sticking her head out of the tent. "Promise."

He took in her hopeful face and wide eyes that swore her innocence up and down, as if not complaining was the most solemnly important thing she'd do all day. And he wanted the time to sit alone, so he could stare resentfully at Rick and Lori's tent.

"Don't expect great conversation," he said warningly. "We're up there to pay attention and protect this camp."

"I know," she nodded, her face serious now. She looked so earnest, he couldn't bring himself to turn her down.

"Come on, then," he said resignedly, turning towards the RV. She couldn't resist a smile.

"Don't be getting cocky, now. You're kind of annoying, you know."

"Yeah, but I'm kind of cute too, right?"

He turned to look at her, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Ch," he tutted at her, as he continued walking to the RV.

* * *

"Shane?"

"Yeah."

"What's it like being a cop?"

"I'm not really a cop anymore."

"You kind of are," she said, disagreeing.

"Hmph."

"Okay, well, what  _was_  it like?"

Shane thought. "Quieter than you'd think. Small town in Georgia? Not too much happens. Domestic stuff-"

"Oh, domestic stuff. So have you kicked the ass of  _every_ abusive husband, then?"

"Ed had it comin'," Shane said darkly.

"I never said he didn't," she said matter-of-factly, then sighed. "Well, I'm glad you punched him in the face. Someone had to, and surprisingly I am not that great at hand-to-hand combat."

Shane smirked.

"So what else?"

"Nothing really. The occasional theft, rowdy kids, stuff like that. Mostly you just make sure people are following the rules. Nothin' too exciting."

"Except for when Rick got shot?" Emily asked hesitantly.

"Well, yeah, obviously that was an exception," said Shane, somewhat irritably.  _I know what I saw_ , he thought defensively _._

The wind picked up, and the blanket Emily had wrapped herself in fluttered around her ankles.

"That must have been scary," she said quietly.

Her sympathy surprised him. "Well…it was and it wasn't. The situation wasn't scary. It was exciting. Leon couldn't believe we were setting up a spike strip for a high-speed chase, felt like we were on COPS or something," he said jokingly, smiling just a little. "But when Rick got shot…yeah, I was scared," he admitted. "That man's my best friend. Known me longer than anyone else. I had to…I mean, what was I s'posed to do?" he muttered, talking more to himself now.

"And…you thought he was dead?" I wasn't lost on Shane that she was asking him, not telling him. She continued to gaze at him, waiting expectantly.

"I…listen, I tried to take him, but I- he had all these tubes and monitors all over him, and then the power went out, and I listened for his heartbeat. I checked for a pulse, and  _I did not feel one_ ," he said defiantly.

Emily surveyed him silently, and Shane felt a wave anger at having to defend himself,  _again_. He had told the group what happened, and he didn't care if they believed him, but he hated feeling like he was backed into a corner.

"Rick was all I had and I thought he was gone. I had to think about Lori and Carl, simple as that," he said.

"You love them, too," Emily said, blinking. "I get it."

Again, her sympathy surprised him. He didn't know what he expected, but this wasn't it.

A rustling noise alerted their attention, and Shane had his hand on his holster before they realized it was just Glenn, coming to take over their guard duty.

"You're off the hook, Shane, better get some- oh, hey Emily, I didn't know you were up here," Glenn said in surprise as he pulled himself up onto the roof of the RV.

"Yeah, just…figured I'd be company," she said, shrugging.

"Well anyway, you better get some sleep before we leave. Hey, you think they'll be able to help Jim?"

"Hope so," Emily said softly.

Shane raised his eyebrows. "I don't know, but he's not riding with me, I'll tell you that."

* * *

He was almost asleep, and then: "Shane?"

"What." He answered her listlessly, hoping she understood how tired he was.

"Do you think things will ever… go back to normal? To the way they used to be, before the walkers?" she asked.

He rolled over to face her. "Honestly?"

"Yeah," she answered. Again, she was looking at him with wide eyes, and he was taken aback by her sincerity.  _Why the hell does she care what I think?_  He thought.

"No. I don't." He was blunt on purpose, knowing that any other answer would be a lie. He wasn't gonna sugarcoat this for her. Either she would toughen up, or…

"Oh," she said quietly. She paused for a second, but then asked: "Then…why are you trying so hard…to keep us alive?"

 _Why are you askin' me this at three in the mornin?_  He sighed. "Well I- I don't know what happens after. I mean I do, if you get bit. But maybe this is all we got. Figure even a shitty life is still worth livin'."

She brought her blanket up to her face, tucking it just under her chin. She looked at him up through the long lashes on those doe eyes, and said "Yeah…I think so too."

And as he rolled over and asked her go to sleep now, please, or to at least stop bothering him, he thought that she might just be cuter than the she was annoying.


	9. Bad Cop

**Day 64**

* * *

"You're pretty cute when you're clean."

"Glenn!" she giggled. She had thoroughly enjoyed her hot shower, and that alone would have been enough to put her in a good mood, but after the shower, all the food,  _and_ the alcohol…well, now she was in a great mood. Not to mention, the most important part: that they were safe, sealed off from the walkers behind steel and blast doors and concrete… _sigh_. God bless the CDC.

"What? It's true!" he said, grinning lazily.

"Ease up on that Jack, Glenn. Wouldn't want to say something you'll regret later," said Rick.

"I'm just beeeeing nice," slurred Glenn. "Girls like hearing that stuff, don't they?"

"They do, thank you  _very_  much," Emily drawled in her best southern accent.

"My goodness, you two are silly," Lori said, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"Well us young'uns have to stick togetha!" Glenn said in a terrible approximation of a southern accent, almost sloshing his drink onto Emily.

"Glenn," Emily laughed, trying to control her giggles, "that was  _horrible_."

"We're too, we're not old enough to hang with this crowd," he said, gesturing to the table where Rick, Lori, Shane, Daryl, and T-Dog sat playing cards. "They're all…old."

"We're all  _what_  now?" Lori asked Glenn, giving him a pointed look.

"Um…whoops?" he said, eyeing the table.

"You're on your own with this one, pal," laughed Rick.

"I saved you from a tank! See, this is why we have to- oops! To stick together," said Glenn, fumbling for Emily's shoulder and missing  _just_ a bit.

"Watch your hands there, boy," Shane growled from the corner.

"Christ, you're more of a lightweight than I am!" Emily laughed giddily. "He didn't mean anything by it, did you Glenn?"

"Noooooope, nope, nope, we're just friends, beeeeest friends! I'm friends with a celebrity!" he said gleefully, wrapping his arms around her middle and slumping into her side.

"Glenn was right, I am too old for this," said Lori as she rose from her chair. "I'm gonna make sure the kids are asleep and check out that library," she informed them, and headed off.

"Well, I don't know about y'all, but I went to college in Florida, I can drink with the best of 'em!" said T-Dog happily, plopping down on the floor next to Emily.

Daryl smirked. "Back where I'm from, we don't need college to drink, we just call that life."

"Well, cheers to that, brother," said T-Dog, handing Daryl a beer.

"You guys are crazy," said Rick with a smile. "I'm going to sleep. You comin' Shane?"

"Yeah, I'm comin'," muttered Shane.

"I just have to talk to Jenner for a sec, I'll be right behind you," said Rick, wandering toward the opposite hallway.

"Fine, I'll just head back then," Shane said darkly. When no one responded, he stalked off to the living area, still holding his full bottle of liquor.

* * *

"You guys, I think he's asleep," Emily said of Glenn, who was snoring softly into her shoulder.

"What a party pooper."

"Think we can get him to walk? There's no chance I can carry him," said Emily, struggling to stand up and lift Glenn at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll take care of him for you, princess," said Daryl with a smirk.

"I'm not- he's too heavy! I-"

"Calm down, Short Round, I'm just messing with ya," said Daryl, hoisting Glenn up by his armpits.

"Wouldn't he be Short Round?" said T-Dog, indicating Glenn.

"And you thought  _Merle_  was racist?" Daryl said incredulously, sneering at him.

"Shut up," huffed T-Dog, as he lifted Glenn's legs.

"Just callin' it like I see it," replied Daryl.

"Are you guys gonna fight?" Emily asked nervously.

"Relax, Em, go to sleep," Daryl said, annoyed.

"Alright…don't let him choke on his vomit or anything," she said, mildly worried about leaving Glenn in their care.

"Yes, ma'am," said Daryl.

On her way back to one of the bedrooms, she heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering.

"Hello?" she said, knocking on the door. "Is everything ok?" When no one answered, she slowly opened the door to find Shane sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. "Shane?" she asked in alarm, hurrying into the room, concern blooming in her stomach.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Shane thundered.

Emily stumbled, taken aback by his aggression. "I- I'm sorry, I just- I heard the glass and- oh my god, Shane what happened to you?" He had scratches all down his arms and on the side of his face.  _What the hell?_  She thought.

"You shouldn't be here! Get out!" he yelled, getting up and facing her. The veins in his neck stood out, and her heart thudded in her chest, filling her with adrenaline.

"I- I'm really sorry, Shane, I'm really sorry. What can I do?" she asked, hoping to calm him down.

"Nothing!" he said, throwing a full beer can against the wall. It spun in frothy circles on the ground.

"Shane, calm down, you're scaring the shit out of me right now."

"Good! You should be afraid of me!" he yelled, stalking towards her. "What were you thinking, sleeping in my tent?" He was right next to her now, his eyes flashing dangerously.

She faltered. "I'm sorry, I just…just that,  _you_  know," She stuttered, her mind wiped completely blank by fear. She felt like her mind and body were folding in on themselves, and she wished she really were disappearing. Shane's angry face loomed above her, waiting for her to answer him. "We're friends…" she forced out in a small voice.

"You don't want to be friends with me, Emily. I'm not a good guy," he spat darkly, and turned away from her.

Emily blinked rapidly, trying to process this and figure out what caused his drastic change in behavior toward her. "What happened? You're not-"

"JUST GO!" he yelled.

She ran.

* * *

 **Day 65** (Emily)

"Don't ever let me drink again," Glenn said miserably from under his arms.

Emily chuckled. "Want some bacon?"

Glenn groaned.

"Alright, water it is," Emily said, raising her eyebrow. "Who's got the aspirin? I think Glenn needs some."

"I've got it," Shane replied, entering from the other side of the kitchen. He walked a few feet before tossing the small bottle to her.

"Thanks," she said eyeing him warily, the word almost getting stuck in her throat. He eyed her back, something indefinable in his gaze, and she almost dropped the aspirin, the pills shaking around in the bottle. She paused, her thoughts interrupted by an unexpected wave of nostalgia at the sound of the pills in the bottle. It was a normal sound. It reminded her of home, and taking vitamins in the morning.

"Please make everything ten times quieter, my eyes have their own heartbeat, 'kay thanks…" Glenn trailed off, head still in his hands.

Shane crossed the kitchen and picked up the bottle of pills. "Fun night with the boys last night?" he asked her under his breath.

She narrowed her eyes. "The best," she shot back.

She caught Daryl's eye as he observed this interaction. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  _Later_ , she indicated, shaking her head.

"Jenner, I don't mean to slam you with questions first thing in the morning…" Dale said as Jenner entered the room

"But you will anyway," finished Jenner as he made himself a cup of coffee.

"We didn't come here for the eggs," he explained. The room got quiet very quickly as they looked at Jenner expectantly.

"Come with me to the control room. Vi," he said, addressing the virtual computer system, "show playback of TS19."

As they walked into the control room, menus filled with data loaded rapidly on the computer screens.

"Few people ever got a chance to see this," Jenner explained. "Very few."

"Is that a brain?" asked Carl.

"An extraordinary one," answered Jenner with a smile that quickly faded. "Not that it matters in the end. Take us in further?"

"Enhanced internal view," said Vi.

As the picture zoomed further into the brain, and Jenner explained what they were seeing were synapses firing. "Those are what make you unique," he said.

They looked on in awe at the flashing lights on the computer screens.

"This is test subject nineteen," Jenner continued. "This patient was bitten, infected, and volunteered to let us record the process. Vi, scan forward to the first event."

"What is that?" asked Glenn, as the scan of TS19's brain started to flicker.

"It invades the brain like meningitis," explained Jenner. "The adrenal glands hemorrhage, the brain goes into shut down, then the major organs. Then death. Everything you ever were, or ever will be…gone," he finished softly.

Andrea was visibly affected by Jenner's explanation. She hung her head, not looking at the screens.

Tears in her eyes, Emily reached for Andrea's hand, squeezing it tightly, as Andrea began to cry. She missed Amy so much. She hated seeing Andrea so upset, but, like usual, she couldn't do much but squeeze her hand, and let her cry.

"She lost somebody, a couple days ago," Lori explained to Jenner. "Her sister."

"I lost somebody too, I know how devastating it is," Jenner said to Andrea empathetically.

Andrea met his eyes for a moment, then lowered her head again. Emily gave her hand another squeeze, wiping her own face quickly with the back of her hand.

"Vi, scan to the second event," Jenner instructed.

"Scanning to second event," answered the computer.

"The resurrection times vary wildly, we have reports of it happening in as little as three minutes. The longest we heard of was eight hours. In the case of this patient, it was two hours, one minute…seven seconds."

The scan flickered to life again, though it was just that: a flicker.

"It restarts the brain?" asked Lori.

"No, just the brain stem," answered Jenner. "It gets them up, and moving."

"But they're not alive…" Rick said incredulously.

"You tell me," said Jenner, pointing to the scan.

"It's nothing like before," said Rick, shaking his head. "Most of that brain is dark."

"Dark, lifeless, dead. The frontal lobes, the neocortex, the human part? That doesn't come back," said Jenner.

A green streak shot through the scan, surprising them all.

"God, what was that?" Carol asked.

"He shot his patient in the head. Didn't you?" Andrea accused Jenner.

Jenner powered down the computers and walked away, not answering. Emily felt queasy, holding Andrea's hand in a vice-like grip. This man was starting to scare her, and she wasn't entirely sure she knew why.

* * *

The sirens began abruptly, harsh and demanding.

"Thirty minutes until decontamination," the computer recited.

"Everybody, you heard Rick, go get your stuff now, go!" Shane yelled.

They ran for the doors, which suddenly slid shut. Emily looked for Jenner, confused and frightened.  _What the hell?_

 _"_ Did you just lock us in? He just locked us in!" Glenn screamed.

"You son of a bitch!" Daryl screamed, trying to attack Jenner with a glass wine bottle, while Shane fought to restrain him.

"Open the doors," Rick told Jenner.

"I can't, the emergency exit doors are closed, everything top side is locked down. It's not my call, it's the computer's. It's better this way," Jenner told him.

Emily felt a deep dread at these words. Whatever it was that Jenner thought was "better," she had a feeling she'd disagree with him.

"What happens in twenty-eight minutes?" Rick demanded, pointing at the large LCD clock counting down. "WHAT HAPPENS-"

"Do you know what this place is?" Jenner replied forcefully. "We've protected the earth from some  _very_  nasty stuff!" he yelled, right into Shane's face. "Weaponized smallpox! Ebola strains that could wipe out half the country! Stuff you don't want getting out! EVER!" Jenner panted now, red in the face from the force of his yelling.

The sense of dread in Emily grew stronger as the tension in the room ratcheted up to a higher pitch.

Jenner sat down, composing himself. "In the event of a catastrophic power failure, of a terrorist attack, for example, HIT's are deployed to prevent any organisms from getting out."

"HIT's?" Rick demanded.

"Vi, define," Jenner instructed.

The voice of the computer filled the room. "HIT's, High Impulse Thermobaric fuel: air explosive consists of a two-stage aerosol ignition which produces a blast wave of significantly greater power and duration than any other known explosive except nuclear. The vacuum-pressure effect ignites the oxygen between 5,000 and 6,000 degrees and is used when the greatest loss of life and damage to structures is desired."

Emily slumped to the floor, hands covering her mouth, horrified. They were all going to die in here.

"It literally sets the air on fire," Jenner said quietly. "No pain. An end to sorrow, grief, regret. Everything."

* * *

Daryl screamed as he threw the glass bottle against the blast doors. It splintered against the door like matchsticks.

"Outta my way!" Shane yelled to Daryl, running at the door with a large axe. It didn't even make a dent, but he continued to hit it with all his force, Daryl joining him with an axe of his own.

"Is this what you want? A short, brutal life? You know what this does to people, you've seen it," Jenner said to the group at large, most of whom were sitting on the floor near the blast doors.

"I don't want  _this_ ," Rick said passionately to Jenner.

Emily could hear Carl and Sophia crying, each being held by their mother. She looked around for another axe, a gun,  _something_.

 _We can't die like this_ , she thought stubbornly, still in shock.  _We just can't._

"I can't make a dent," said an out-of-breath Shane.

"Those doors are designed to withstand a rocket launcher," Jenner said condescendingly.

"Well your head ain't!" Daryl screamed, going for Jenner with an axe. Dale, Shane, T-Dog, and Rick all had to restrain him to keep him from smashing open Jenner's head like a watermelon.

"You do want this. Last night, you said, you knew it was just a matter of time before everyone you knew was dead," Jenner said to Rick.

The room went quiet. Emily looked up at Rick in disbelief.

"What, you really said that?" asked Shane, looking betrayed. "After all your big talk?"

"I had to keep hope alive, didn't I?" Rick said, defending himself.

"There is no hope," Jenner countered him.

Rick fumed. "There is!" He said to Jenner. "Maybe not here, maybe not with you but somebody, somewhere-"

"What part of 'everything is gone' do you not understand?" asked Andrea sharply. Emily spun around in shock, gaping at Andrea.

"What?" she asked Andrea with a gasp. Andrea just looked down, not answering her.

"Listen to your friend," Jenner said. "She gets it. This is what takes us down. This is…our extinction event."

Emily looked to Glenn, whose face mirrored how she felt: a mixture of dread and disbelief.

"You can't just keep us here," Carol sobbed. "It isn't right!"

"One, tiny moment, a millisecond. No pain," Jenner said comfortingly.

But Carol wasn't having it. "My daughter doesn't deserve to die like this!" She lifted Sophia out of her lap and stood, Dale helping her up.

"But wouldn't it be kinder, more compassionate?" Jenner pleaded as she walked away. "To hold your loved ones and wait for the clock to run down?"

Emily turned swiftly at the sound of a rifle being cocked, and saw Shane heading towards Jenner.

"Shane! No!" Rick said, throwing himself in front of Shane to block him, but Shane busted by him and aimed the rifle at Jenner's head.

"Open that door, or I'mma blow your head off!" Shane threatened. "DO YOU HEAR ME?" he yelled, pushing the gun into Jenner's forehead.

Rick tried to persuade him, urging him to put the gun down, but Shane held fast.

"Shane, listen to him," Lori said passionately. At this, Shane got even angrier, and shot at one of the computers and the lights before Rick managed to take him down, clocking him in the face and taking the gun.

"Are you done now? Are you done?" Rick asked Shane, as if Shane were a kid throwing a temper tantrum.

"I guess we all are," Shane replied, breathing heavily.

Emily couldn't even blame him for behaving the way he did. She felt just as wild with rage and despair. Suddenly, she had an idea: what if she could get on one of the computers? There had to be some sort of override system! She just needed to figure out a way to get on the computer…

She walked quickly towards Glenn. She  _knew_  he knew his way around a hard drive. They'd both joked about missing wi-fi more than their relatives in the beginning.

"Glenn," she whispered, "what if we can get on the computers?" she finished in a rush. "I wouldn't know how to get on, or if we'd have to hack in, but you  _know_ there's an override somewhere, I know it's a long shot but maybe if we can figure out how…?" she trailed off, looking at him beseechingly. He had just stood up when Rick interrupted the silence.

"I think you're lying," he accused, looking at Jenner.

Emily and Glenn shared a confused glance, and looked back to Jenner.

"What are you talking about?" Jenner asked Rick, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"I think you're lying, about there being no hope. If that were true you would have bolted with the rest. You didn't. You chose the hard path. Why?"

Emily's heart soared.  _Are you a cop or a detective?_ She thought, silently praising Rick.

"It doesn't matter," said Jenner, shaking his head.

"It does matter, it always matters. Why did you stay?" he pressed.

"I didn't want to! I made a promise," Jenner said, standing. "To her." He pointed at the screen. "My wife."

Lori put the pieces together first. "Test subject nineteen was your wife," she said with despair.

"She begged me to keep going as long as I could. How could I say no?" Jenner said listlessly.

BANG!

Daryl had started attacking the door again with an axe.

Emily looked at Glenn. "Now?" she whispered, glancing at the clock nervously.

"Wait, wait, let's see what he says," Glenn advised.

"She was dying. It should have been me on that table, it wouldn't have mattered to anybody. She was a loss to the world!" Jenner said angrily. "Hell, she ran this place, I just worked here! In our field, she was an Einstein. She could have done something about this. Not me."

"Your wife, she, she didn't have a choice," said Rick, grasping at straws now. "That's all we want: a choice. A chance," he pleaded.

"Let us keep trying as long as we can," Lori begged.

Jenner paused, looking around the group. "I told you, top side's locked down, I can't open those," he said, walking away from them. Emily looked at Glenn imploringly, and he nodded, when the sound of beeping alerted their attention. Jenner was punching numbers into a keypad.

The blast door Daryl had been attacking with an axe for the past 5 minutes suddenly lifted.

"Come on!" Daryl yelled, and they sprinted for the doors. Emily looked around, but didn't see Andrea. She stopped running, looking around desperately for her.

"Emily! Come on!" Glenn shouted.

"I can't find Andrea!" she yelled back to him, noticing that Jacqui and T-Dog were arguing by the door.

"I'm staying," Jacqui insisted, pushing T-Dog towards the door.

"I'm staying too," came Andrea's voice from behind Emily. Emily whipped around, looking for her.

"Andrea, no!" said Dale tearfully.

The group was silent now, looking at Dale and Emily.

"Go, just go!" Dale said, waving them off. "You too!" he said, pushing Emily toward the door.

"Wait, I-" she threw her arms around Andrea's middle. "I love you!"

She was pulled away violently, and found Glenn yanking her arm. "No time! Now!"

"You too, Dale!" She yelled over her shoulder as she ran, Glenn still yanking her along. "I love you too!"

They ran without stopping until they reached the front of the building, unable to penetrate the bulletproof glass. Emily desperately punched random numbers into the keypad.

"Rick, I have something that might help," Carol said, running toward Rick. "The first morning, when I washed your uniform? This was in your pocket," she said, thrusting a grenade toward Rick in her trembling hand.

"Everybody get down!" Rick yelled, running to the window.

 _Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god_ … Emily thought in a constant refrain, running to take cover.

And then the glass was blasted out of the way and they were running through the window, back in the heat, back amongst the walkers. Shane and Rick cleared the way ahead of them as they sprinted to the RV.

 _Andrea, no, Andrea…_  Emily thought sadly as they piled into the RV.  _Dale…_

"Stop! Don't drive away yet!" yelled Lori, pointing out the window. Emily looked up just in time to see Andrea and Dale ducking down behind one of the sandbag blockades, before Glenn pulled her down to the ground.

"Cover your head!" he screamed.

Emily gripped her elbows for dear life while the CDC exploded.

* * *

 **Day 66** (Emily)

"I have no gun, I'm pissed off and I wish I was dead. The bar is set pretty low," said Andrea, raising an eyebrow.

"It's so unimportant. Seriously, it's dumb."

"The dumber, the better."

"Ughhh!" Emily flopped down next to Andrea, rolling her eyes.

Andrea was quiet for a moment, a rueful smile on her face. "You remind me of Amy."

"I know," Emily admitted sadly. "I'm sorry."

"That's not a bad thing. I loved Amy. I miss her."

"Me too," she said, dropping her head onto Andrea's shoulder.

"Tell me your dumb story."

* * *

"Any room on the end of your hog?"

"That an offer?" Daryl said with a smirk.

"Shut up," Emily said, sending a smirk right back.

"Don't tell me you didn't see that coming," Daryl said, laughing.

"Can I ride with you or what?"

"As long as you don't do anything annoying," he quipped. She shot him a  _look_ , which made him laugh. "Hop on, girlie."

"Okay, wait, so," started Emily, a bit nervous. "What about walkers?"

"What about 'em?"

"What happens if you see them?"

"You make sure you're goin' faster than them," answered Daryl.

"That sounds…kind of…awesome."

He leaned in close to her face and raised an eyebrow. "It is."

Feeling impulsive, she raised one right back. "Excellent."

She was perfectly aware of how reckless she was being as she swung onto the back of Daryl's motorbike.  _But if everyone here loves me_ , she thought grimly,  _no one will want to let me die_.

"Oh my gosh, if my dad could see me right now…" Emily said, shaking her head. "He'd kill me!"

"I've heard that before," said Daryl, starting the ignition.

"Let's do this," she said, wrapping her arms around Daryl. "I've always wanted one of these."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: There are some lines in this chapter taken directly from the tv series: specifically when the group talks to Jenner about the virus/tries to escape from the CDC. Since I've tried to keep this series canon (with the exception of the original character), and since the explanation of the virus is not something I plan on altering, using the dialogue from the series seemed like the best idea. I say this because I do try to expand these characters in an original way (as original as is possible, given that this is a fanfic) by not only expounding upon their emotional states, but by giving them original words. Thus, I'd like to give readers a heads up that much of the dialogue used in the CDC while examining/explaining the virus was not created by me, it was taken directly from the series.


	10. Girl, Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the "violence" warning comes into effect. If you're not one for gore/violence (regarding zombies, at least) tread carefully after the group arrives at the "maze of abandoned cars." It's just that section, and it's over by the end of that demarcated section.

 

 

**Day 67**

* * *

 

_Emily  
\---------_

"As soon as I get the chance, I'm leaving," Shane said, staring at the wall of the RV bathroom.

"What?" Emily asked in shock, too surprised to finish closing the little bathroom door.

"I'm takin' off. I can't be here anymore. I work better on my own."

Emily gaped at him. "Wh-what? I'm sorry, what?" She stared at him, waiting for an answer that did not seem to be forthcoming. "What did you expect, that I'd just be fine with this? That any of us would be?"

Shane gave her a hard look. "Doesn't matter."

"It doesn't  _matter?_ " she whispered incredulously.

"No! I mean…" he sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. "What the hell did you think? We were gonna hold hands and ride off into the sunset together?"

Emily's face got suddenly hot as she weighed his accusation. 

“No,” she defended. “I was thinking - I mean, I don’t know. You're a cop. You were literally trained to protect people! And Travis was…" she skipped right over that in her head, refusing, for the moment, to think about the night their camp was ransacked by walkers. "I freaked out, and I went where I thought I'd be safest, that’s all it was,” she justified. She took a deep breath. 

"It's just…  _nice_  knowing that… I don't know, someone's got your back. I wasn't-" she paused again, considering her words. "It doesn't have to be more complicated than that, except I, well… I guess I thought we were friends or something. I just thought, you know… we could trust each other," she finished, somewhat lamely.

"You shouldn't be so trusting," he replied, crossing his arms.

"Well maybe…you…shouldn't be such an jerk!"

They glared at each other.

"You're not the only one who's angry, you know," she said, working to keep herself at a whisper. "You don't get to just…to just…the rest of us have things to deal with too, I just…" Her anger was breaking. He could see the hurt in her eyes.

"Everything okay back there?" asked Andrea, her voice closer than Emily expected it to be.

"Yeah, all fine," Emily said. She turned back to Shane. "And speaking of not being able protect yourself…" she said, crossing her arms.

"Don't even ask. She's not getting that gun back," he whispered.

"It's hers!"

"She doesn't know how to use it safely."

"Then teach her!"

"I don't think she needs a gun so soon after she tried to kill herself."

Emily's eyes blazed. "Then teach  _me_."

Shane laughed.

"Don't you dare laugh at me," she snapped, taken aback. "You think I don't know who the weakest link here is? I would be dead if not for this group! And hey, it's not like I can depend on anyone else to have my back," she said, a bit more accusatory than she perhaps meant to.

"Don't be so naïve," he whispered roughly. "The group  _loves_  you. And Rick, he would never let anything happen to you."

"We loved Amy, too," Emily reminded him, tears pricking at her eyes. "And sure, Rick's great but he- well I mean, I've known him for about a week," Emily countered, fishing for an excuse.

"He just saved your life-

"-And you've saved it about a hundred times before he even-"

"What else does he have to do? He's a good guy-"

"And you're a  _bad_  guy, yeah, I remember," she said bitterly. "You don't want to have anything to do with me? Fine. That's fine. But you can't deny me the chance to defend myself."

The RV slowed, and rolled to a stop.

Shane breathed heavily through his nose. "I'm not giving you a gun just because you're scared. That's how accidents happen."

"I'm not scared," she said stubbornly.

* * *

_Shane  
\---------_

Of  _course_  she was scared, and Shane knew it, too.  _Fuck this_ , he thought.  _You want to call me out? Fine. That works both ways._  He took a step closer and angled his head down so he was right in her face. "Bullshit," he said.

Emily glared at him, looking hot and uncomfortable.  _Good_ , he thought.  _I guess we'll do this now._

"You heard me. There are dead people  _walking around_ outside, any of us could die at any moment, and you're not scared?" he scoffed.

"Is this a joke?" she spluttered, outraged. "Did you…what is this, I don't have time for-"

"Don't act like you're a tough guy," he said, his smirk growing wider with each passing second. "You're not. You're freaked out, and you're letting it dictate your actions."

"I- are you kidding me? I will slap you!" she threatened.

"Nah, you won't," he taunted, still smiling at her furious expression. "You're too _scared_."

Emily's face registered blank shock, and then her eyes will filled with hurt anger. "Fuck you!" she fumed. "I  _should_  hit you!"

"Then do it," he said emphatically, dropping the smirk. Finally, he was reaching her - she was letting go. _"_ I know you're scared. Stop it. Stop being scared and start being ready. They're out there whether you're afraid of them or not."

Emily stared at him, arms crossed, looking less angry now, but remained silent.

Shane sighed. "I need to go see why we're stopped. We'll finish this in a minute," he said, stepping out of the small RV bathroom.

"Asshole," she muttered, still in the bathroom.  _Can't say I didn't earn that one_ , he thought.

* * *

_Rick_

"Alright, we can get through this, Glenn can you be another pair of eyes? And we need someone outside to help navigate the RV through all these abandoned cars," Rick instructed, slipping into leader mode.

"I'll do it," Daryl offered, who had sidled up next to the RV on his motorcycle.

"Perfect," Rick said.

Dale slowly followed the map Daryl carved through the maze of cars, until the RV stalled with a loud whirring noise.

"Oh no," Dale lamented as he got out and walked around to the front of the RV. "I knew it, I told you we'd need a new radiator hose. I can't keep fixing it, it won't last long, I said it," Dale admonished Rick, as steam billowed out of the front grate on the RV.

"Well luckily for us, we seem to have come across several different parts that might work," Rick said, gesturing to the mass of abandoned cars impeding their way. "Let's get scavenging. While we're stopped, we can always use more gas. Daryl, T-Dog, get on that, please. Will someone grab- Shane, great, there you are. We need replacement parts, and anything else that looks useful," Rick said, thinking ahead to what they might find useful.

"I'll help, too," offered Glenn.

"Let's go, buddy," Shane said to Glenn, and they set off through the maze of abandoned cars.

* * *

_Emily_

"You still in there, sugartits?"

"What?" Emily gave a small, surprised laugh. "What did you call me?" she asked as she exited the bathroom.

"What? I remember the internet," said Andrea with a slight smile. "Now," she said, spreading out the parts of her gun, "Any idea how to do this?" While the group was wandering around the abandoned cars looking for supplies, Andrea had evidently snuck back into the RV to reassemble her gun.

"None at all, sorry. But I can help you try," Emily said with a light smile, sitting down across from Andrea. Andrea was so easy to be with, she always made Emily smile.

"There she is, there's that sweetheart," Andrea said, smiling back at her.

"No way, I wanna be badass."

"Badass," Andrea repeated skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, a badass. Less Zooey Deschanel, more Kate from Lost," Emily asserted.

"What you  _need_  is to be less Indian-guy-from-Community," Andrea said with a smirk, surveying the pieces of her gun.

"Abed?" She said excitedly, before realizing she had kind of just proved Andrea's point. "Dammit, you're right."

"You know, like, every pop culture reference ever. It's kind of amazing," she said smiling, fiddling with a small metal spring.

"Weird that none of it exists anymore. I wonder if-"

At the same moment, movement on the periphery caught both her and Andrea's attention.

"Get. Down." Andrea breathed. They slid onto the floor of the RV, horrified.

Walkers. A  _lot_  of walkers.

A mangled, bloody arm reached into the RV, groping at the railing for leverage. Andrea grabbed the towel which held the pieces of the gun as Emily slid back jerkily in terror. Seeing no other option than the bathroom, they slid silently into it, closing the door as quietly as possible. Andrea opened the cleaning towel and frantically started fitting the pieces together, trying desperately to assemble her gun. They heard shuffling and ragged breathing approach the door and they froze, holding their breath. It moved toward the back of the RV, and after an age that seemed to last forever, the sound of the shuffling moved away from them. It was on its way out. They were in the clear. They were gonna make it. Emily let out the breath she was holding.

Andrea frantically began trying to reassemble her gun again, when the metal spring fell off the towel, making a small clinking sound as it hit the floor. Andrea's mouth made a perfect O, like a silent scream.

 _Maybe it didn't hear_ , Emily thought desperately.  _Maybe it was too far away._

The shuffling sound moved closer.

_Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck-_

As silently as they could, they scooched all the way back against the wall, Emily squishing in next to Andrea, and Emily joined Andrea in bracing her legs against the door.

 _Oh fuck, oh god, please just go away…_  Emily thought desperately.

And suddenly, violently, the folding door began to shake and bend inwards, opening from the outside pressure assaulting it. And as it bent, the girls glimpsed an awful white head with sunken eyes, no lips, teeth blackened with blood and dripping with strands of drool, and the rotted leftovers of what had once been a nose. And as it clicked its teeth and snarled at them through the gaping hole in its face, they screamed.

Through the open skylight she saw Dale, lying flat, still in his lookout position on the top of the RV. He fidgeted with his pockets, and threw them the only thing he had: a screwdriver. Emily clutched it for dear life, trying to tamp down on the noises of abject terror escaping from her throat while she wondered how the hell she was supposed to stab that thing through the crack in the door without it getting her. Unless… _unless the door opened_ , she thought, horrified. Part of her wanted to wait for the others to come help them, but she knew they weren't coming - surely they were dealing with the walkers outside. She had to kill that walker or be eaten by it.  _Stop being scared._

"I have to stab it!" she cried to Andrea.

"Then stab it!" Andrea cried back.

"If I don't…if…use the sharp part on the gun, go for its eye," she gasped. Andrea scrambled behind her, and when she was sure she had the pieces in her hand, Emily stood up, bracing herself. She was terrified.  _You have to do it, you have to do it or it's coming in and there's nowhere to go, stop being scared, STOP IT…_

"Now!" she cried, and Andrea let go of the door, letting it fold open. Running on pure adrenaline, Emily pushed the walker back by its chest, backing it against the wall of the RV, and went straight for its eye. It flailed its arms, its hands scrabbling against her, seeking purchase in her skin. She stabbed - again and again she stabbed it in its bloody eye socket, as far in as the screwdriver would go. Part of her noticed that she had fallen to the floor, pinning the walker under her knees, as she continued stabbing it.

 _Please be dead, please be dead,_ ** _please_** _be dead,_ she thought hysterically, stabbing the other eye socket now.

"I think," gasped Andrea, "you got it."

Shaking with sobs, Emily jerked away from the walker, and looked up at Andrea, her face splattered in stolen blood.

* * *

"Oh god, oh my god what happened in here? Are you guys okay?" asked Lori concernedly as she climbed onto the RV, taking in the scene. Emily was still sitting on the ground, and Andrea was wiping the blood off Emily's face. Andrea just nodded.

"Boys," Lori said, stepping out of the RV, "We need some help getting a walker out of here. Carl," she said in a quieter tone, "don't look."

"Whoa. Who tackled this fella?" Daryl asked with surprise as he leaned down, inspecting the walker with disgust. He glanced up to see Emily's eyes filled with tears and turned quickly to Andrea, who was finishing wiping blood off Emily's face, for confirmation. Andrea nodded once, her face a mix of quiet anger and concern.

"Well," he said, crouching down next to Emily, "you're a badass now. Welcome to the club, girlie."

Emily choked out something that might have been a laugh.

"You'll be alright," he said, and she sniffed, nodding in response. He leaned in hesitantly, eventually patting her awkwardly on the head before standing up to clear out the walker. "Let's get this fucker out of here."

"What happened?" Shane asked, stepping into the RV.

"Emily killed a walker," Daryl said over his shoulder, hoisting the walker up.

"What? How?" he asked, his eyebrows pulling together with alarm, almost tripping into the RV.

"Well, since we had no goddamn gun," Andrea spat, stalking toward Shane, "She stabbed it in the face," she finished darkly, and left the RV.

Shane looked at Emily, still sitting on the floor, her shoulders hunched practically all the way up to her ears, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Emily-" he rasped through his dry throat, "I…I am so sorry," he said, making a snap decision and closing the distance between them. He dropped to his knees beside her. "I shouldn't have left you in here-"

"It's not like I would have been safer outside," Emily responded tonelessly.

He winced and gripped her shoulders. "I was being a dick, before-"

"No, you were right!" she said, starting to shake. "And if you hadn't pushed me back there, I would probably be dead right now!" she said, breaking down. "I AM scared! I'm terrified! They're EVERYWHERE and at night I DREAM about them! I don't know what will happen to us or how we'll survive or where we'll go, or- or-"

"I know," he said quietly, embracing her from the side and tucking her head underneath his chin, while sobs continued to wrack her body. "Hey…" he said, pulling back to find her eyes. He put one of his rough hands on her soft cheek, wiping away the tears there with his thumb. "But you're not dead. You're right here." His eyes softened, but he pulled his hand away, swallowing thickly.

Emily's breath hitched. "But I'm still scared!" she protested.

"We all are," he said, a smile playing at his lips. "Even me. That's why you can't let it control you."

Emily closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, and Shane squeezed her shoulder.

"You're okay," he said, and then got to his feet. "C'mon, we gotta go, and I can teach you about guns while we walk."

"Walk where?" Emily asked in confusion. Shane didn't answer right away. "What happened?" she asked, dread settling into the pit of her stomach.

"Sophia's missing."

 

 

 


	11. Day 68

 

**Day 68**

The group began their search for Sophia early the next morning, leaving Dale to look after the RV and take care of T-Dog, who had ripped his arm open on a rusty car in his rush to hide from the horde. Emily stayed alert for any signs of Sophia, or walkers. In the dense growth, they could be lurking anywhere. Before, this would have frightened her; she would have wanted to stay nearer to the RV. She was still afraid, but not as much. Yesterday's encounter with the walker informed her that it didn't really matter  _where_ she was.

She stayed close to Shane as they trekked through the woods, enjoying the time she had to talk with him, now that she wasn't so angry with him.

"So this gun," Shane said, indicating the gun in his holster, "is the same as yours. It's a semi-automatic pistol."

"Ok," she said, nodding, as they stepped over downed branches. In the beginning, Emily didn't have a gun. Before the outbreak, she had never even dreamed of using one. Travis always carried one, but it was mostly for show - Emily knew he had known  _how_  to use it, but she doubted he ever  _would_. He just wasn't that kind of guy. After he died, trying to save Amy from the giant horde of walkers, Travis's gun was given to Emily. She felt sick about taking it, but Shane had deemed it necessary. She had all but thrown it at him, and since then, he had been "holding on to it for her," for better or for worse.

"It's got a single chamber and barrel, so each time you pull the trigger, it fires one round."

"Wait, is the chamber different than the barrel? What's a round? I don't know anything about guns," Emily said quickly.

"What a surprise," Shane said with a smirk.

"I thought a round…isn't that just a bullet?"

"Kind of, yeah. There are different kinds of rounds you can use, but since our supply is sorta limited, at this point you only need to know about this," he said, flipping something bronze out of the bottom of his gun.

"This is a cartridge." He paused, wondering how to relate this to her. "You know on TV, after someone fires a gun, sometimes, you hear uh, clinking? Like something metal falling on the ground?"

"Yes!" said Emily excitedly. It was the perfect example – she knew exactly what he meant.

"Okay," he said, a smile playing on the edge of his lips. "Well that's what happens with a semi-automatic. This part," he said, indicating the majority of the bronze cartridge, "falls to the ground. You just make sure it doesn't hit you in the eye," he warned her. "This is just a case that holds all the parts of the round together: the bullet, the cordite, and the casing. This little part," he said, indicating the very top, "is the actual bullet. This is what fires out of the gun when you take a shot."

"Oh…" she said, nodding slightly. "Okay."

"You still look confused."

"Um…"  _Pick a question, any question,_ she thought. "What's cordite?"

"It's the propellant, it's uh, it's like gunpowder, basically. It's what shoots the bullet out of the barrel."

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Okay. I thought gunpowder was for, like…muskets and stuff," she said, starting to smile.

"Yeah, well, the mechanics haven't changed that much," he said, looking underneath a particularly thick brush. "Ah, just bark… thought it might be her doll," he muttered.

Emily's stomach gave a weird sort of lurch, but she breathed deeply through her nose, willing the nausea away.  _She's fine, of course she's fine, maybe a little hungry but she is definitely, totally fine…_

The woods were so lush, so green. It was almost beautiful. That is, except for the feeling that it was crawling with undead parasites.

"Okay, you think you're ready to hold it?"

"Sure," she said, biting her lip. She held Shane's gun and aimed it away from the general direction of the group. She spread her legs wider than hip width apart and bent her knees slightly, like she was bracing for impact. "Where do I put my other hand?" She asked, looking extremely concerned.

Shane and Rick shared a quick look as Rick passed by them, and they both worked to keep from laughing out loud.

* * *

Rick watched his partner instruct Emily from a couple feet away as he searched through the bramble for tracks.

"Hold on, there," Shane said with a wry smile, coming up behind her. He reached his arms around her and over her hands to grip the gun. "Bring your legs in a little, there you go, do you have a good grip with your right hand? Sure? Okay now steady it with your left hand, however you're comfortable, that's it, just make sure you've got a firm hold all the way around the grip," Shane instructed. Emily nodded and shifted, following Shane's instructions as he gave them.

 _Hmm…_ Rick thought, observing them as he passed.  _Not exactly_ ** _surprised_** _, but she seems a bit young for him,_ he thought.  _Then again_ …he amended, noticing the way Shane had wrapped his arms around her, and the way her cheeks had filled with color. He shook his head, continuing on as he searched the underbrush.

* * *

 _He doesn't need to be quite this close, does he?_  Emily thought to herself, inhaling sharply. She could feel him, the uninterrupted points of connection with him up her arms, across her back, and down her legs. Holy…she hadn't touched anyone like this, she hadn't  _been_  touched like this since, well _…the last time I had sex?_ she wondered. Which, at this point, felt like it happened years ago. Her eyes widened, and a dangerous feeling of lust shot straight through her nervous system.

Either Shane knew exactly what her shallow breathing indicated, or he felt something, too. He moved somewhat hesitantly - not so clinical or practiced, as was his usual demeanor. His thumb brushed across her knuckles seemingly in slow motion.

 _FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK,_ she thought frantically, squeezing her eyes closed and tensing her shoulders. She had to physically stop herself from pushing back against him, closer into him. Of course she'd always found him attractive, but now his body was up against her body and maybe it had just been a while or he had great pheromones or something but all the sudden she was  _really_  horny and she  _must_  be losing her mind or-

"You ready?" he asked, his voice a low rasp. His hot breath tickled her neck, and she could feel his lips just inches from her ear, like his proximity created a static that buzzed between them in the small space.

"Yes," she answered weakly.  _Jesus Christ, he's doing this on purpose. He must be._

"First thing you wanna do is be  _very_  careful where you aim."

"Yeah, of course," Emily assented nervously, trying to focus on the gun now.  _Focus._   _You_ ** _have_** _to learn this. This is important. Focus._

"Make sure this is in the locked position, engage the safety," he said, pushing down on her finger to switch a lever on the side of the gun. "And it cocks automatically when you fire. So you are…cocked and locked."

 _Oh my god, stop saying cock. Emily! This is not sexual!…_ she yelled at herself internally. Her hands felt sweaty against the gun.

"So…now what?" she asked him nervously.

"Now you're ready to fire."

"That's it?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Shane said. His rough hands lingered at her wrists before he slowly dropped them and stepped away. They seemed to brush the sides of her body on their way down more often than was strictly necessary. "Won't do it now, though. Don't wanna draw 'em," he added. He gave her a fleeting smile before looking quickly at the ground.

"Course," she agreed, taking a deep breath and trying to clear her head.  _Is it just me or does he also look- ?_

"We should-"

"Yeah," Emily finished for him, and they began walking again, Shane tucking his gun back into his holster.  _What the shit just happened back there?_  Emily wondered, bewildered at how incredibly electric it felt to touch Shane. She took a deep breath and shook her head. She forced herself to focus again, looking around at the greenery as they passed, searching for any abnormality. Luckily, these woods didn't seem particularly thick, making their search a bit less difficult. "Thanks for showing me the basics," she said, offering him a shy smile.

"Absolutely," Shane answered. "Once we get…settled somewhere, if we end up at Fort Benning, we'll have to have a class, make sure everyone knows how to handle one safely. Although with the amount of noise they make, we should probably be practicing with knives, axes, all that. No point in killin' 'em if the noise just draws more in, don't need another herd," he posited, squinting into the distance.

"Still good to know, though. How to use one, I mean," Emily clarified.

"Still good to know," Shane agreed with a smirk. "And I'm serious about aiming, you really gotta be careful," he added. "A lotta times, bullets'll go right through whatever you shoot," he said, serious now.

"Right through?!" Emily exclaimed, her eyes wide. "Even through, like, a person?"

" _Especially_  through a person," he replied, eyebrows raised. "That's why you need to be extra careful not only about what you're aimin' at, but what might be  _behind_  what you're aimin' at."

"Wow," she said, biting her lip. Her forehead wrinkled in thought. "Um, but…I thought they got stuck in people?" she asked, as they picked their way through the forest.

"They can, sometimes," he explained patiently. "Depends on the distance, depends on the kind of round being used. Like hollow-points, those are hollow bullets, they're engineered to explode into pieces on impact."

"That sounds…ow," she said incredulously.

Shane chuckled at her reaction. "Yeah," he agreed. "Ow."

Shane smiled, a real smile, appreciating the easy companionship between them, and his gaze lingered on her pretty face.

They slowed as they rejoined the rest of the group, which was stopped at a small, one-person tent. Before either of them could ask about the tent, the sound of church bells filled the air. They paused, looked around at each other, and immediately took off toward the sound of the bells.

* * *

They followed the sound until they came upon a church, and though it had no steeple, and no bells, they ran to it, hoping it held the answers to their questions.

When it came to religion, Emily always held more stock in science, rather than faith. Science didn't discriminate. Science didn't do stupid things, like tell people they couldn't get married. It held no convictions, just laws based on evidence: like gravity. She had nothing against religion as a whole, just the way her fellow humans sometimes interpreted it. The CDC exploding was tough to swallow, but it never seemed like they had failed, just that they needed more time. The decontamination was based on a scientific protocol, after all.

But seeing that church in the distance, she felt something stir deep within her. Maybe…maybe this was it. Would it hold the answers they sought?

Her heart leapt into her throat as Rick, Daryl and Shane drew their weapons and prepared to open the doors.

What she saw inside caused her heart to sink, down, down, down into her stomach…

Three congregants, still sitting the pews, turned in eerie symmetry to face them.  _Shit_. To eat them.  _Oh shit_ , she shouldn't be swearing in a church,  _oh crap_  she did it again,  _ahhhhh…_ she found herself in an endless loop of cursing at herself for cursing in a church. She doubted it mattered much, seeing as her thoughts could hardly compare to what currently sat in the pews. She immediately looked around, inside and out, for any more walkers, but found none.

Rick, Shane, and Daryl moved in separate directions, which effectively separated the walkers as they each pursued one of the three men.

The huge farm hand smiled in a sick, evil sort of way. Or maybe that was just his way of baring his teeth, preparing to feed. Emily regarded him in his denim overalls, attempting to remain detached.  _He used to be human._  Rick grabbed an axe from Lori and moved in quickly, taking him out.

Shane took the second man, the fast moving one. Though she was grateful to them for their bravery, she would never admit how much it scared her to see them in combat with the walkers. She hadn't forgotten her now-eyeless pursuer so easily. It didn't help things that Shane used a machete to take down the walker, spearing it through the head. He had to get so close to it, it's arm reaching out and grabbing his shoulder. She couldn't help but wince.

Daryl took down the woman walker with an ax. Her body, covered by long sleeves and a long dress, looked remarkably normal. It was her head - nothing left of it but blackened bone and wispy hair - that unnerved Emily. She seemed to be wearing some sort of cap, or veil, and Emily hoped that she wasn't a sister. Somehow, that would have made it worse.

"Sophia!" Daryl screamed, stepping over the now still walkers.

It was stupid of her to hope for something here, she knew that. It might be a house of God, but it was still a house all the same, made of the same wood, windows and doors that any walker could navigate its way into with enough persistence.

 _It was just instinct_ , she told herself. This must have been a place they frequented, and their instincts lead them back here, that's all it was.

 _And they couldn't be saved?_  She thought, wonderingly. Cured from whatever ailment, infection, wrath of god – whatever it was,  _they_  were still afflicted? So pious in their previous lives that they made their way back here as walkers, even  _they_ were not spared?

What did it mean for the rest of them?

_What…what_ **_is_ ** _this? What is happening?_

"Hey JC," Daryl panted, walking up to the large crucifix at the front of the church. "You takin' requests?"

* * *

"I'm tellin' you, it's the wrong church. It's got no steeple, Rick. It's got no steeple," Shane said shakily. She wondered if he was okay, or if he was having the same realization she was having about the churck walkers.

And then, again, the church bells rang, this time louder than ever. Daryl ran out the door toward the sound, and everyone followed him.

"Timer," Daryl panted, as Glenn quickly disabled the megaphone that was producing the sound of church bells. "It's on a timer."

The weight of this realization hit them hard. Sophia wasn't here. There were no other people here. This was just more nothing…just like everywhere else.

"I'm gonna go back in for a bit," said Carol in a quavery voice. Most everyone followed her.


	12. Church

 

**Day 68** , At the Church

"What's this I hear about you leaving?" Lori asked in a hushed voice, confronting Shane outside the church.

"I think it's best for all of us," Shane said, his mouth in a tight line.

" _I_  think it is," Lori agreed. "But what made you decide?"

"I'm just trying to be the good guy, even if you don't see it. None of this was intended…I hope you know that." Shane looked down. For 'being the bigger man,' he felt pretty small.

"You're just gonna disappear? You're not even going to tell Rick?" Lori asked, her eyebrows drawing together.

"Don't even try to stop me, that's on you… You tell him what you want, or tell him nothing at all, you're his wife!" Shane said, shaking his head incredulously.

"And Carl?" Lori asked, holding back tears. "We dragged him into this, you're just gonna leave without telling him why?"

"I love Carl!" Shane defended. "I'm just trying to make this easier on him, it ain't easy for me. I'm the one that loses him," he finished shakily.

She turned away from him, hurrying up the church steps, stopping just before she entered. "You going alone?"

Shane paused before answering. "Haven't decided yet," he admitted truthfully.

Lori shrugged and went back into the church.

Shane warred with himself. He  _had_  to leave, but…no, she would be safer if she stayed with the numbers. He closed his eyes tightly.  _She'll be fine_ , he thought, trying to convince himself. It wasn't working very well.

* * *

Emily listened to Carol tearfully pray for her daughter's safe return, feeling more confused than ever.

 _She's twelve years old_ , Emily thought.  _So young, and so innocent. You would subject her to this?_  She thought, worriedly. She had decided that, from the religion standpoint, this must be the apocalypse. They must have been the ones left behind.  _All those crazy people standing on their soapboxes in Times Square were right_ , she thought ruefully.  _It's the end of the world._

If religion is true, she reasoned, that would have to be the only explanation. How else could God or Jesus or whatever not have intervened yet? It seemed an awfully long time to stay out of something. He must have  _already_  intervened.  _This must be like Noah's ark_ , she thought.  _He's waiting until we all drown_.

 _But…Carl? Sophia?_ Her brows furrowed in concern.  _Well that can't be right._

Okay, so maybe Jenner was right. This was their extinction event. It happened across species, across millennia. No one would survive. In that case…wouldn't it be simpler, easier, to…how had they put it? Opt out? Emily didn't like that idea, either. But if she was really honest with herself, what did she really have still to live for? She thought of the Grimes, of Sophia, of Glenn and Daryl, of Carol and Andrea and Dale…she loved them like a family. She thought of Shane. She didn't know him, not the way she wanted to. But she did want to.  _But why?_  Was it hormones? Was it ingrained biology, wanting her to find a mate? Was this just a vestigial part of her life that no longer existed?

She rubbed her temples.

_What. The actual fuck. Is going on._

_If enough doctors had survived, if they had maintained power in the CDC…they could have figured something out._  Emily truly did believe that, she couldn't deny it. She looked up at the crucifix at the front of the church. Sometimes, the nihilistic part of her brain got the best of her, and she believed religion was just a structure developed by man, so that there was something that held humanity to a moral code. Other times she wasn't sure.

 _Well, I always believed in ghosts_ , she admitted to herself. What about them, where did they go? Did they still exist in this world? What a random thought.

 _What about you?_  She thought, searching the crucifix.  _Do you still exist?_

"Please, Lord," Carol prayed tearfully. "Punish me however you want. But show mercy on her," she finished, tears streaming down her face.

In the end, Emily left the church before the others, feeling very alone. God didn't want her. The earth didn't want her. But still… she decided to reserve judgment. She wasn't ready to give up on everything…not just yet.

* * *

"We gotta move here, man," Shane said to Rick. "These people are spent. There's only so many hours of daylight left, we still got a long way back-"

"I can't stop yet," Rick interrupted.

 _That's not 'rational Rick,'_ Shane thought, using his old nickname for Rick and surveying him over. Shane wondered what old Rick would have said. _What's the rational approach here?_ Shane wondered. "We still got a lot of ground to cover, the whole other side of the creek bed, we can search that on the way back."

"If she heard those church bells, she could be nearby," said Rick.

"She could be a lot of things," Shane countered.

"I can't go back. Her being out here is my fault."

Shane's heart dropped. "That's great. Now they got you doubtin' yourself, huh?"

"What about you, you doubtin' me?" asked Rick, looking up at him.

Shane was instantly covered in guilt. His mouth went dry. "Hey, we can assign all kinds of blame-"

"This means something, finding her," Rick said fervently. "It would be the miracle we need, we  _can't give up_."

Shane nodded and slapped Rick's shoulder. He decided not to argue - to let Rick make the call, because Shane wasn't willing to leave his best buddy high and dry.

Shane made his way back to the church to let the others know he and Rick would be staying behind to look for Sophia, when he spotted Emily sitting alone against a huge tree in the little church graveyard, and diverted his path. "How come you're not with the others?" he asked her, motioning to the rest of the group as they exited the church. "Not what you believe in?"

She took her time in answering him. "I'm not sure what I believe anymore," she said absently.

He fought the instinct to roll his eyes. "Yeah, well, join the club," he said, sitting down next to her and leaning his back up against the tree, his forearms resting on his knees.

"I mean, the world's gone to shit and we're just…leftovers," she said. She looked so…dejected.

"Hey," he said, turning his head to look down at her. "Don't say that. Come on," he pushed, when she didn't respond, bumping her shoulder with his. "We'll be alright."

She finally looked up at him and searched his face, looking for what she couldn't find in the church. "How do you know?"

He paused uncertainly, rifling through his thoughts for something that sounded plausible. In the end, he just told her the truth. Anything else felt hypocritical. "I don't," Shane admitted. "I just don't like hearin' you like that," he finished quietly.

Emily felt her face warm. Shane's answer meant more to her than anything he could have said about shelter or anti-virals. "Does that mean you'll stay?" she asked, quietly hopeful.

Shane scoffed, somewhat uncomfortable with the realization that he just wasn't going to leave. He didn't want to. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

The corner of her mouth quirked, and slowly grew into what was almost a whole smile. She stood, wiped the loose dirt off her jeans, and offered Shane a hand. "Telling you. And  _don't you make me tell ya again_ ," she said in her best approximation of Shane's accent.

Shane actually laughed. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, taking her hand.

* * *

"Y'all search the creek bed on your way back, Rick and I are gonna search this area a little while longer, just to be thorough," Shane instructed the group.

"You're splitting us up? You sure?" asked Daryl.

"Yeah," replied Shane. "We'll catch up to you."

"I wanna stay too," piped up a voice in front. "I'm her friend."

Rick and Lori looked at each other for a moment. Rick shrugged, and Lori looked down at Carl, sad but resigned. "You just be careful, ok?" she said, putting her hands on his cheeks affectionately. "When did you start growing up?" she asked, hugging him.

Emily caught Shane's eye and they wandered over to each other, a couple feet away from the rest of the group.

"You stay by Daryl. He's a sniper with that crossbow," Shane told her.

Emily nodded. "And you be careful," she instructed him earnestly.

"Yes ma'am," he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips and a dangerous glint in his eye.

"I'm serious!" she argued quietly, although she cracked a small smile.  _I could get used to that,_ she thought, looking up at him. "Don't get cocky."

Shane's eyebrows shot up. "Look at you, tellin' me what to do," he drawled, smirking at her.

"That's not what I meant-"

"Oh I know what you meant," he replied easily, his eyes raking down, and then back up her body. "Don't think I don't know."

Emily swallowed, and it sounded loud in her ears.

"Ready, Shane?" Rick asked, snapping them both out of it.

"Ready," Shane responded, and with a last smirk at Emily he walked toward Rick. "You remember what I told ya!" He shouted to Emily over his shoulder as he walked away.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Emily acquiesced. She bit her lip, holding back a grin.

"You flirt," Rick accused as they left the clearing.

"Sue me," Shane countered, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this one. Reviews are better than eye-sexing with Shane. (Just kidding, there's nothing better than that. But please still leave a review! It makes my whole day!)


	13. The Longest Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've seen the series or read the comic books, you know something bad happens to Carl. If you haven't...well, something bad happens to Carl.

**  
Day 68**

As they walked, they searched. Shane searched for walkers. Rick searched for a sign that he was doing the right thing. And they all searched for Sophia.

The sound of a twig snapping caught their attention.

They located a movement in the greenery. Shane aimed, but Rick put a hand on his shoulder, stilling him.

It was a deer.

It walked gracefully into the clearing, innocently sniffing the leaves.

Carl walked towards it slowly, a boyish smile on his face.  _Could this be real?_

Rick watched with reverence, and love.  _This is a sign_ , he thought.

 _Well I'll be damned_ , Shane thought, dropping his aim.

They both smiled as Carl walked toward the deer, frequently meeting the excited looks he gave them over his shoulder.

Suddenly, the deer heard Carl, and it lifted its regal head. Its velvety antlers stuck straight up, and it looked right at Carl.

Carl continued walking very slowly, smiling in awe.

The deer stared at him, twitching its ears.

There was one, prolonged moment of pure, genuine beauty.

And then with the sound of a gunshot, both Carl and the deer fell to the ground.

* * *

"How far?" Rick yelled over his shoulder as he ran, carrying Carl in his arms.

"How far?!" He yelled again, when the man didn't answer fast enough.

"That way," huffed the large man, pointing east. "Just…keep…going…that way…Hershel's farm…ask for Hershel," he said, resting his hands on his knees.

"Come ON, hurry  _up_!" Shane shouted with impatience, grabbing the large man's arm and pulling him along. His chest was tight. The muscles in his legs burned with exhaustion.

Rick ran the whole way.

* * *

"Has he been bitten?" asked an elderly man, raising from his seat on a porch bench.

"Shot," gasped Rick, tears streaming down his face. "By your man."

"Otis?!" asked a woman's voice, from somewhere. Rick couldn't see her. He didn't care.

"He said to find Hershel, is that you?" Rick asked, while tears and sweat and pure, genuine desperation leaked from every pore of his body, and Carl's blood leaked into his uniform.

"Yes-"

"Help me, help me, my boy!" he moaned hysterically.

"I need my whole kit," Hershel said to the house at large as he rolled up his sleeves. "Coagulants, bandages, alcohol, everything," he continued, leading Rick into an empty bedroom.

"What's your name?" Hershel asked Rick.

 _Words. Stop saying things. Just_ ** _help him_** _._  Rick's mind was spinning perilously fast, like a top quickly nearing the edge of a table. "R..Rick, Rick- my name is Rick."

"Rick, we're gonna do everything we can to save your boy, and right now we need some room," Hershel instructed.

The edges of his vision became blurred, perhaps because nothing in this entire fucking world mattered but Carl. He kept his focus there. On his son. _Carl._  "Is he alive?" he sobbed.

"Maggie, fold that pillow and make a pad," Hershel directed.

"Is he alive?!" Rick asked again, clutching at the remains of his lucidity.

"I got a heartbeat, but it's faint. Rick, we need some room, now!"

Rick slowly, dazedly, made his way to the front porch. He distantly noted Shane's voice, yelling at Otis.

"He alive? Is he still alive?" asked Otis, panting, as he and Shane stumbled on to the porch.

Rick just stared at them, feeling for all the world like his brains were coming undone in his own head.

* * *

"Hey, hey," Shane said quietly, walking toward his friend.

Rick took off his hat and wiped his forehead, smearing his face with Carl's blood.

"It's okay," Shane said in a subdued voice, grabbing a bandana from his bag and wiping Rick's face with it. "It's okay." It was  _not_  okay. It was scary as hell, but Shane's composure came easy when he looked at Rick. His brain cried piteously in the background while his instincts went into overdrive.

Rick just stared at him, uncomprehending, his face a mask of grief.

"You got blood…" Shane whispered. His hands gripped Rick's shoulders like he was holding him back from falling off the edge of a cliff.

Rick took the bandana and stared at it in his shaking hands.

"Hey, I'll take it for you," Shane whispered, his brain catching up to his body in an unwelcome rush. He had to fight for his composure now.

"Where is he? Where…" Shane continued in a whisper, his mumbling and his heavy breathing mixing together into a low sob, before Rick let out a cry and led them into the house.

Hershel, along with two other women, were working over Carl's body.

"You know his blood type?" Hershel asked.

"A positive, same as mine," Rick choked out.

"That's fortunate," Hershel said with small relief. "Don't wander far, I'm gonna need you."

Hershel looked between Rick and Otis. "What happened?" he demanded.

"I was…tracking a buck…" Otis whispered. "Bullet…went through it. Went clean through."

"It did slow it down… certainly saved his life, but it did not go through clean," Hershel said heavily. "It broke up into pieces. If we can get these fragments out, and I'm countin' six…" Hershel trailed off.

"I didn't see him," Otis said desperately to one of the women in the room. His wife, Shane presumed. "I swear I never saw him," he said, whimpering.

Rick glanced at Otis and his wife embracing, and his eyes went glassy again. "Lori doesn't know…" he said, reeling. "My wife…doesn't know, my wife doesn't know," Rick said, breaking down again.

Shane gripped Rick's shoulder and leaned his head in against Rick's, whispering words of comfort.

* * *

"Rick! He needs blood! Somebody, help me hold him down!"

Carl thrashed in pain as he screamed. "Daddy!" The sound of Carl's scream shot through Shane like someone had cleaved straight through his head and into his heart.

"You're killing him!" Rick shouted in horror as his son screamed.

"Rick, do it now!" Shane screamed frantically, holding Carl down. _Oh God, oh god, I can't,_ _ **I can't**_ _..._

* * *

"I need to tell Lori."

"You can't do that," Hershel warned.

"She's his mother, and she doesn't even know he's lying here, shot!" Rick said angrily.

"He's going to need more blood," Hershel reminded him gravely.

Rick got up from his chair next to Carl's bed and staggered. Shane immediately went to help him.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Rick assured him. "Don't worry," Shane whispered to Otis's wife, Patricia, and Hershel. "I got him," he told them, before following Rick out of the bedroom where they were treating Carl.

"Lori needs to be here," Rick said, as they walked into the living room where Otis and Hershel's daughter Maggie were sitting.

"I know, I'll handle that," Shane promised him. "But I need you to handle your end."

"My end?"

Shane took a deep breath.  _Calm, Shane. Rational,_ he reminded himself. "That is  _your son_. Even if he didn't need your blood to survive, you can't leave him. I'd break your legs if you tried, you know that right?" Shane asked incredulously. "If…If something happened…" Shane faltered. He tried again. "If he slipped away, while you weren't here, you would never forgive yourself. And neither would Lori." His words seemed to stagnate, and hung heavily in the air between them.

Rick sat with his head in his hands for a moment. "You're right, I know you're right," he acknowledged.

"You gotta be strong for Carl," Shane rasped out, embracing Rick. "You got the hard part, you just…" Shane faltered as his voice cracked. "Leave the rest to me, alright?"

"Alright," Rick whispered back, and he hugged his best friend.

"Good news and bad news," said Hershel, entering the living room. "Good news is, he's outta danger for the moment. Bad news is, that was the shallowest bit. I need to go deeper to get the rest," Hershel explained with a sigh. "And…there's more," he continued sadly. "His belly's distended and his pressure's dropping, which means there's internal bleeding. I have to find the bleeder, and stitch it, which means…I need to put him under," Hershel explained.

"What do you need?" Rick asked shakily.

"We need a respirator, the tube that goes with it, extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures, the works," Hershel answered.

"The nearest hospital went up in flames weeks ago," Otis said, looking at Hershel with confusion. "Unless…the high school?" Otis asked.

"That's what I was thinking. They set up a FEMA shelter there," Hershel explained to Rick and Shane.

"Place was overrun last time I saw it, couldn't even get near it…maybe it's better now…" Otis suggested bleakly.

The room was silent for a moment.

"I said 'leave the rest to me,' is it too late to take that back?" Shane joked nervously. In truth, he was doing all he could to keep from breaking down.

"I hate you going in there alone," Rick said warningly.

"Come on," Shane countered. He had no other way of responding. Someone had to do it, and it couldn't be Rick.  _Jesus, I hope I make it back._ Hell, it was too fitting; Rick made the decisions, Shane did the heavy lifting. At least this decision was easy - everyone in the room knew what had to happen. Shane wouldn't make him say it.  _Christ, I hope I survive this._  "Doc, do me a list, draw me a map," he said simply.

"You won't need a map," said Otis, letting out a long breath. "I'll take you there."

"Otis - no," Patricia objected sternly.

"We don't have time to argue, and I'm the one who's responsible…I'm not gonna sit here while this man takes this on alone," Otis explained. "I'll be fine."

"You sure about that?" Shane asked, remembering too clearly the man's endurance, or lack thereof, on their way back to the farm.

"Do you even know what any of this looks like? The stuff we need?" Otis questioned Shane.

"Come to think of it, no," Shane answered with a small smile. It wouldn't have been difficult to figure out, but he wasn't going to turn down an offer for help twice.

"I was a volunteer EMT, I do. Now we can argue about this 'til next Sunday, or we can just go do it real quick."

"I'll take right quick," Shane acquiesced quickly.

* * *

 

**-Back in the Woods-**

Andrea screamed as a walker surprised her from behind, jumping out of the greenery.

She bashed it with her branch, but she could have been kissing it for all the good it did her. She ran backwards, but tripped on a tree branch. She kicked profusely at the walker as a last ditch effort to ward it off, to keep it from biting her. Its black teeth gleamed with drool as it grabbed her feet.

The sound of a galloping horse snatched Andrea's attention as she kicked for her life.

"Lori? Lori Grimes?" asked Maggie, effortlessly felling the offending walker with one swift swing of a baseball bat to the head as she rode by on horseback.

"That's me!" Lori yelled, as the group arrived breathlessly at Andrea's location, having heard her screams.

"Rick, your husband Rick sent me? He needs you now, there was an accident and Carl got shot, he's still alive, but Rick needs you NOW!"

The group looked around at each other in disbelief, and Lori hurried over to Maggie.

"He's been giving him blood all morning without a rest, and he won't last much longer before he collapses, he needs you!" Maggie explained urgently.

"I don't- we don't have the same blood type!" Lori said fearfully as she mounted Maggie's horse. "He's A positive, but I'm AB pos...I can't, I can't…" she cried out, wiping away tears.

"Me! That's me, I'm A positive!" Emily yelped. She had thrown her hand in the air, as if waiting to be called on.

Lori looked at her beseechingly, tears streaming down her face, but Emily was already hurrying over to Maggie's horse.

"You don't have to ask," Emily said, but was stopped by Maggie before she could even figure out how to mount the horse.

"Shit," Maggie cursed under her breath. "She can't come now, we can't fit three on this horse, even if we try," said Maggie.

"I'll get there as soon as we can," Emily promised her fervently.

"Whoa whoa whoa whoa, we don't know this girl! You can't get on that horse!" Daryl argued, alarmed.

"You got a man on the highway, stuck in the traffic?" she said quickly to Glenn.

"Yeah," Glenn said, nodding urgently.

"Tell him to backtrack to Fairburn Road, two miles down is our farm, the name Greene is on the mailbox. Hiyah!" She yelled, kicking the horse to life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, holy shit. Feels. Although I very rarely do this, some of this dialogue is taken straight from the series. It's written so well, I didn't want to change it. Also, seriously, watching this scene again for reference…whoa. If there is anything better than Andrew Lincoln's acting in this episode, I do not know what it is. Cried through writing this whole thing. Reviews are better than Shane and Rick hugging! (Eh, that's a close one. Shane and Rick hugging is the best. Review anyway?)


	14. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group desperately awaits Shane's return. Shane finds himself trapped in a school, surrounded by walkers.

 

  ** **Decisions****

* * *

****Day 68** , **night, Shane's stream of consciousness  
\---------

Shane and Otis arrive at the high school. The term "overrun" is an understatement. Walkers move like a mass of sluggish bees, buzzing with hungry groans. Or are they deathly groans? Shane doesn't know  _why_  the fuck they groan, he just knows they're completely blocking the goddamn trailer.  _Time for plan B. Shit._ (Shane hates contingency plans).

Shane analyzes the scene, and spots a cop car.

_There's a good chance there are still flares there. Maybe guns, too, if we're lucky._

They aren't lucky.

Moving quickly and staying low, Shane and Otis do manage to snag some flares from the car without being spotted. They even manage to use them successfully, distracting the walkers long enough to slink inside the trailer. Shane rummages frantically, searching for the supplies as quickly as he can. He's unsure how long the flares will keep the walkers distracted. He rifles through the bags and bags of  _fucking_  face guards, until finally he spots something white and oval, and to his relief, it's a respirator. He shoves it in his bag, wishing he could just drive the whole goddamn trailer back to Carl but knowing their chances of getting back to the car unseen depend directly on their ability to stay agile.

Unfortunately for Shane and Otis, the ability to remain agile becomes, very suddenly, more important than anything else.

Shane, blood pounding in his ears, carefully opens the door to the medical trailer, only to immediately be noticed by a couple walkers.  _Shit_. That's all it takes before the horde realizes there are two fresh-smelling humans close by.  _Fuck_. The walkers move pants-shittingly fast for being so dead, and Shane and Otis immediately start running.

Hauling ass towards the high school, Shane finds walkers coming from another direction and speeds away, Otis just barely on his heels. They book it, cutting a labyrinthine path around fences, over handicapped ramps, and over benches. Shane runs so quickly he almost collides with a walker around the corner of the building, not having time to do anything more than punch it out. He aims for the nose, fearful of letting its teeth scrape his knuckles.

By the time they make it to the front doors of the high school, the walkers are converging on all sides. Finding the doors of the school locked, Shane directs Otis to stand back, before shooting the glass doors. They fling themselves behind a flimsy folding gate at the front doors.

The walkers amass at the gate, some shoving their entire gray arms through it. The two men back up as far as possible, but it's only a matter of time before the gate gives way.

They are entirely surrounded by moldy, rotting flesh. The walkers moan insistently with hunger as they try to catch them, intent on devouring them. There is no way out. Their only chance of escape…is  _in_.

* * *

Back at the RV, the search for Sophia continues.  
\---------

"We can leave some food out here, some directions on how to find us," Glenn suggested as they congregated around the RV.

"I'm not leaving without her," Carol said.

"Well if you're not leaving, I'm not leaving. We can stay with the RV and you guys can take T-Dog to the farm," said Glenn.

"Well, if the RV stays, so do I," Dale explained.

"I think we should stay," Andrea added.

Daryl looked around the group, considering the situation. "Alright," he conceded. "You're right. We can't just leave her here. We stay."

"I can't," Emily said nervously. "Carl needs blood, and we have the same type. That girl said Rick was on the brink, and Rick will bleed himself dry before letting Carl," Emily's breath hitched and she paused, collecting herself. "So… I'll do it."

The rest of the group exchanged glances; some looked grateful, others uncertain. "You can't drive there alone in the dark, any number of things could happen to you," Dale said concernedly.

"I'll take you," Glenn offered. "I know where the exit is, I can get us there."

Emily exhaled gratefully and tried to smile. "Okay, then. Glenn and I will take T-Dog to the farm." With the absence of Rick, Shane, and Lori, splitting the group into an even smaller number gave Emily a certain sense of foreboding, but there was no other option. She comforted herself with the knowledge that as long as they were good on gas, nothing would happen to them in the car. She wasn't, however, as certain about the group members they'd be leaving behind.

"Good luck you guys, find Sophia, okay?" she said anxiously, hugging them all before she and Glenn helped T-Dog into Carol's sedan and left for the unknown farm.

* * *

Shane's stream of consciousness  
\---------

Shane and Otis run furiously down a hallway in the high school, pursued by a herd of walkers right on their heels.

They somehow make to the gymnasium, beating their way through the few unsuspecting walkers already there and heaving themselves on top of some folded bleachers.

He tries to catch his breath.

The walkers amass below, reaching their oozing gray hands up to grab at him. They can't quite reach, but they're damn close.

"What about those windows?" he gasps, pointing to some windows above a set of open bleachers across from them.  _Assuming we can make it that far._

"There's a drop, at least twenty feet," Otis informs him, panting.

He looks around at the gymnasium full of snarling walkers, knowing full well that even more lay waiting in the rest of the high school. He shines his flashlight around, and it's a mistake – he illuminates their faces, looks right into the eyes of the damned.

They're trapped.

He suggests looking for bushes to land in.

"Listen, there's no way I'm fitting through those windows," Otis says. "We should split up - I'll make a break for it through those doors," he wheezes, jerking his head to indicate a set of doors to the right.

"What's through there?"

"Locker room, much bigger windows. I'll give myself three shots to clear the way…" Otis gulps, looking warily at the horde of walkers, "and you can cover me from up here. It'll give you a chance to get to those windows," he continues, motioning to the windows Shane had asked about. "I'll go out through my windows, you jump out yours, and we'll meet up on the other side."

Shane agrees, but only out of desperation. It's a long shot, a  _very_  long shot, but it's all they've got – they're completely surrounded. Otis fires his shots and beats off the walkers, running for the locker room, while Shane covers him from above. As the walkers follow Otis, Shane jumps down and sprints across the gym. He catches the attention of two walkers, who follow him. He can hear them gaining on him, climbing the stairs behind him ( _they can climb?! Holy fuck_ ) and  _shit_ , it's right on him, he needs his gun-

**BANG!**

He shoots the walker, just in time, too, and it crashes into the other behind it. They fall like dominoes down the stairs, and he allows himself a breath.

He drops his supply bag, his backpack, and finally his rifle down into the bushes while sizing up the drop. He grabs the sill and hangs as low as he can from the window.  _Please don't let me break my leg, please don't let me break my leg…_

He lets go with one hand… and suddenly something's grabbing him, and Shane has a moment of abject terror because  _it's got him._  That second walker must have made it back up the stairs, and ( _where's my gun)_  he can't let go - it's got a tight hold on his hand and ( _where is my gun)_  it's gonna bite him  _holy shit_  it's going for his hand-

**BLAM!**

Shane wrestles his handgun out of his holster just in time, shooting the walker in the head. He is released from the walker's grip, but he is also shot backward from the window ledge. There's an ominous crunch in his ankle as he hits the ground.

 _It hurts so fucking bad_  and  _there's no time_  are chorusing in his brain and he can  _hear_  them, they're _coming_ for him. He can't stand up, and he knows this is the end. He wishes Rick was here to have his back. But this is what he gets for caring, for trying to do something good, because there's no room for anything good here and that's why Sophia is gone and Carl is dying or already dead…

And then he hears that voice, the one that keeps him up late at night, talking about things that don't exist anymore and never would again. The voice belonging to the one person who  _expected_  him to be good, who trusted him. Emily would never forgive him for dying now. If he gives up now, Carl has no chance.

Good, innocent Carl whose one shot rests in  _his_  hands. Not God's, not Rick's…his. Carl may be dying, but there's something he, Shane, can do about it.  _Isn't that worth fighting for?_ Emily's voice seems to shout at him.

"I got you," he whispers.

He hears gunshots.  _No time, gotta go now_.

He hugs the wall, stays low, as he ventures to the spot where he's supposed to meet Otis. The walkers are everywhere, but they're on the other side of the fence. He can barely walk.  _Shit_.

A walker appears in the dark, on his side of the fence. He shoots it, and three more appear. He takes aim, but ( _fuck!)_  he's out of ammo. He backs away as far as he can, limping until his back is against the fence. He quickly tries to reload his rifle through his shaking hands, but there are walkers amassed on the other side of the fence trying to grab him through the chain links. He limps forward,  _god dammit_ , and reloads. He aims to fire at one of the walkers coming towards him, and suddenly the walker is shot and it wasn't Shane who did it. Through the darkness, he sees Otis, who shoots another one of the walkers advancing on him. Shane takes out the third.

"I thought I lost you, man!" he gasps.

"I just made it. That was my last rifle round," Otis heaves, grabbing Shane by the backpack and pulling him along.

"Me too," Shane grunts, shuffling along as fast as he can. "C'mon, c'mon," he huffs, staggering behind Otis.

* * *

Back at the farm, night, Emily  
\---------

I entered the house, adrenaline and creeping fear pulsing through my limbs. I clenched my fists, hoping to rid myself of the wooden feeling in my joints. "Where's Carl?"

"He's seizing!" someone shouted from my left.

"My father's workin' on him – he's in there with his parents," said the girl, Maggie, the one who rescued Andrea and picked up Lori on her horse.

"What can I do?" I asked, anxiously running through my rudimentary first aid knowledge _._  I could be an extra set of hands, at the very least. "Blood? I'm A positive!"

"Not now, take these towels to the big sink in the back and wash them while we stitch up your friend," Maggie said, thrusting several soiled towels into my arms.

"Shane?" I asked the room at large.  _What the fuck is happening…_

"Is that Rick's friend?" Maggie asked, while packing a dopp kit with the essentials. "He and Otis are at the high school, gettin' surgical supplies for Carl," Maggie explained. "Here, take these, too," Maggie said, stacking bloody sheets on top of the towels in my arms.

"Make sure to use bleach," said another woman before hurrying into Carl's makeshift hospital room.

"Big sink, bleach, got it." I glanced at Glenn, silently asking:  _Are these people safe?_  He made a weird sort of nod-shrug at me before I bolted around the corner, bile rising in my throat. I took that to mean acceptance for what, surely, we both already knew - we don't have time to find out.

* * *

Shane's stream of consciousness  
\---------

They are both reduced to crawling. Otis, from exertion, Shane, from the pain of his broken ankle.

"We just gotta keep going," Otis wheezes, crawling beside Shane. "Double back to the car."

 _People get winded, walkers don't. We're not gonna make it to the truck…_ "Look, we ain't gonna make it, okay," Shane shares with a grunt. His ankle is in such searing pain that it's an effort just to  _exist_. Walking is out of the question.

"We're gonna try! Come- come on, get up!" Otis tells him, hauling himself to his feet.

"You're gonna take these bags, and you're gonna go," Shane growls. His mind races, thinking of the possible measures he could take to keep himself alive, already hyping himself up to rouse the last of his energy, hoping to manage at least enough to get himself up into a tree.

"I ain't leavin' you behind!" Otis yells. Shane can see that he won't. He would never do such a thing. He's too good.

 _Don't you know I'm not worth it?!_ His mind screams with frustration. _It's Carl! Carl is worth it!_

He glares at Otis, who makes no move to take Shane's bag.  _Fuck_. Then he'll have to suck it up and endure the pain, because if he lets this motherfucker stay behind with him, Carl dies.

He slams his hand on the ground in fury, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that Otis's plan will fail. Shane will not make it without Otis's help, and Otis will not make it if he has to spend the time and energy helping Shane. Either he leaves Shane, or they all die, Carl included.

"Take the packs, man! I'm not gonna make it!" Shane yells, shoving his pack roughly at Otis. "Get it to Carl, there's no time! Go!"

"I won't do it!" Otis yells back, hoisting Shane to his knees.

 _Fine_ , Shane thinks angrily.  _Time to come up with Plan B._  (Shane hates contingency plans).

"How many rounds you got left?" he asks, inclining his head to indicate Otis's pistol.

Otis checks. "Four, you?" asks Otis.

Shane opens his clip. "Five, one in the pipe," he says. The horde following them is huge, and, as a consequence, somewhat slow-moving. This is of little comfort, though, as Shane and Otis are quickly losing their lead.  _They're gaining on us._

Shane stumbles along severely, and they each turn and fire at the closest walker.

* * *

Back at the farmhouse  
\---------

"Emily! We need your blood, now!"

"Are they back?" Emily asked hurriedly, rolling up her sleeves as she rushed into the room where they were treating Carl. "Is Shane back?"

"No," answered Patricia, "But we're running out of time. We're gonna have to get started now," she explained.

Patricia and Maggie got all the equipment ready, while Hershel readied himself. Lori and Rick observed tensely. Lori, looking appreciatively in Emily's direction, was suddenly distracted when the tension was abruptly broken by the sound of an engine.

"Are they back?!" cried Emily desperately.

Hershel, Rick, Lori, and Maggie ran outside, leaving Patricia to continue drawing Emily's blood, and Emily with no answers.

* * *

"Carl?" Shane asked beseechingly, gasping in pain. Winded with exhaustion, he weakly handed Hershel the supplies.

"There's still a chance," Rick answered in a low voice, unsteady on his feet.

"Otis?" Hershel called out uncertainly.

Shane felt his throat constrict. He couldn't breathe. "No, he- he didn't…" Shane trailed off. It was very quiet.

"Not a word to Patricia," Hershel said quietly, emotion showing in his face. "Not until after, I need her for this!"

Everyone, save for Rick and Lori, left to go back inside.

Shane looked up at the two them, uncertain what he should do, but Rick was already embracing him, weeping openly into his shoulder.

"Thank you for saving my son," Rick sobbed, and Shane hugged him back. After a moment, Rick stepped back, his footing shaky.

They gazed at Shane, waiting to hear what happened. Shane took a shuddering breath.

"He…we were outnumbered, and he gave me his pack and said 'keep going' so… he said, 'you go on ahead, I'll cover you from behind, you- you keep going,' so that's what I did, I- I kept going," Shane choked. "And when I turned around, he-" his voice broke, and he stopped, looking down.

"He wanted to make things right…." Rick said dazedly.

Shane nodded, biting hard on the inside of his cheek.

* * *

 _Emily_  
\---------

Emily tried to count how many sets of footsteps entered the hall, but it was impossible.  _Anyone could still be outside, Rick and Lori…but if Shane and Otis just came back, there's no way they would be completely unscathed- they'd have come inside, to clean off, to see Carl? Wouldn't they?_ Would she see them come in? Her heart pounded, pushing her blood even more swiftly into the little bag.  _He's okay, right? Then where the fuck is he?! Is he here, is he alive? God dammit I just have to know if he's alive…_

"That should be enough," Patricia said, removing the tube as gently as she could from Emily's arm. "Whoa, slow down, there," she said, as Emily stumbled in her haste to get up from the chair.

"I'm fine," Emily said, trying to brush off Patricia. "I'm fine."

"Go get some orange juice from the kitchen, will you? You need to increase your blood sugar."

"Thanks, I'm on it," Emily responded wanly, making it to the living room with as much speed as she could muster. It sounded like someone was bounding up the stairs.

* * *

 _Shane_  
\---------

He had to get away.

He felt like he was covered in guilt. It was as if he could feel it, like a material substance, coating his body. But…Carl, he had to see if Carl…

He forced his feet to move, pushing himself into the dining room. Should he say something to Patricia? A wail issued from the other room, followed by sound of a woman sobbing. Shane glanced to the kitchen to see Patricia collapsing at the table, attended by Hershel and Rick. The tenor of Patricia's grief emanated from the kitchen, swallowing him whole.

He felt like he was drowning.

"He's stable," said Maggie, entering the dining room with a pile of clothes. "The bathroom's upstairs and to the right. Here," she said, thrusting her arms forward. "Got you some clothes."

Each breath was a labor. This was all for Carl, and Carl was going to be okay.  _Carl will be okay._

"They won't fit well. They were Otis's."

He couldn't breathe, he was going to die, he was going to suffocate because he would never be able to figure out how to take his next breath. His tongue felt like dead weight in his mouth, it would choke him-

Leaving the clothes, he turned and practically ran up the stairs, straight into the bathroom.

* * *

 _Emily_  
\---------

"Who was that?" Emily asked Maggie, gesturing to the stairs.

"Shane," Maggie said, bitter tears streaking down her face.

Emily's heart leapt exultantly, but Maggie's stricken and tear-strewn face tempered her joy. The two emotions clashed spectacularly in her bloodless head, and the room swayed.

"What's wrong? What happened?" she asked desperately, concern etched on her face.

Maggie swallowed thickly. "Otis," she said simply.

"Oh…" she said, feeling sad for Maggie, Hershel, and Patricia, and absolutely terrible at the soaring relief she felt, knowing that the crisis had nothing to do with Carl, or Shane. "I'm sor-"

"It's fine," said Maggie, cutting her off. She thrust the oversized clothes into Emily's arms. "Take these upstairs, will you?" She asked stiffly, before turning to walk into the kitchen, shoulders slumped, and not waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, of course," Emily agreed quietly, watching her leave.

* * *

 _Shane_  
\---------

He turned on the shower. He looked at himself in the mirror. His arms were bruised from Otis's fingers, his back scratched by Otis's nails. In turning himself in the mirror, he noticed his hair, or at least, lack of it. A bloody patch stood out on the back of his scalp, where Otis had ripped out a chunk of hair. Without warning, his mind to shot back to their escape from the horde…

\---------

"How many rounds you got left?" he asks, inclining his head to indicate Otis's pistol.

Otis checks. "Four, you?" asks Otis.

Shane opens his clip. "Five, one in the pipe," Shane says.

The horde following them is huge, and, as a consequence, somewhat slow-moving. This is of little comfort, as Shane and Otis are quickly losing their lead.

They have 10 rounds left between the both of 'em. They're both tired and moving slowly, just barely staying ahead of the walkers. Shane is hurt and Otis is old and out of shape, and the walkers press in closer with each passing second. They're dead in the water.

"Come on!" Shane shane yells, stumbling severely. They each turn and fire at the closest walker.

\---------

Shane searched frantically for a razor, an electric shaver, something. This was too noticeable, someone would ask… He'd have to shave his head.

\---------

They continue firing back into the horde, but they are far outnumbered, and the walkers are gaining on them.

"I'm down to my last," says Otis.

"Me too," moans Shane. They slow, looking at each other.  _Do something_ , he thinks. _Emily is waiting. Carl is_ ** _dying_** _. Contingency plan: SURVIVE._

His mind goes blank as Shane gives himself over completely to his survival instincts.

"I'm sorry," Shane says soberly.

Otis looks at him questioningly. Before he even as time to ask, Shane shoots him in the leg.

He grabs Otis's backpack, but Otis won't let go. He struggles. He still thinks Shane might change his mind about this. Otis, a good man, thinks Shane will at least help him to the car if he still has his pack. He still thinks he might survive.

He doesn't know Shane.

Shane is not a good man. He didn't come here for himself, and he didn't come to help Otis. He came for one reason and one reason alone: Carl. This was  _always_ about Carl. Otis is a good man, but he's not Carl.

Shane has to fight him for the pack, and Otis is putting up a good fight, scratching and clawing at him.

Shane has to kick him, hard, to get him to let go.

\---------

His mind wasn't blank  _now_. His stomach heaved. He was going to throw up.

\---------

Shane doesn't have long to win this fight, the walkers are getting close. Otis grabs Shane by the hair. Panic surges through him. He has to get away,  _now_. He beats him with his fists, with his empty gun, and finally, he wrenches Otis's gun out of his hand. He uses the last bullet to shoot him again, in the chest this time, but Otis _still won't let go_.

The walkers are getting closer, and Shane wrests away from Otis with all his strength. Otis hangs on with everything he's got. There's a ripping sound, and a chunk of Shane's scalp comes away in Otis's hand. Holding tight to both his and Otis's backpack, Shane takes off as fast as the pain in his bum ankle will let him…leaving Otis.

As bait.

He turns around, and sees as the walkers begin to tear into him. He hears Otis's screams.

He makes it to the Ford.

\---------

He looked at himself in the mirror, checking that his head was fully shaven. He looked like a murderer.

He breathed hard. There was no getting rid of this. This would stay with him forever.

"Shane?"

There it was. There was that voice, but this time it was real. He made it back, and Otis never would. That was his to live with forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cries*


	15. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've honestly had this part written for so long, I feel like the rest of this fic has been leading up to this moment. This particular drabble is what prompted this entire fic, so I really hope you enjoy it. If I could recommend a song or two, it would by "Civilian" by Wye Oak and "Cold" by Aqualung + Lucy Schwartz).

_Emily_

"Shane?" she asked, trembling. He was alive, certainly, but had he been bitten? If they'd lost Otis, there must have been some close calls. She knew him – if he had been bitten, he'd have tried to make it back before… getting the supplies here would have been his number one goal…When she opened the door, what would she find?

The shower was running.

Terrified, she opened the door. She paused as she came face to face with Shane. His head was completely shaved; great clumps of hair rested in the sink. His eyes looked crazed.

Crazed, but normal. Not blank. Human.

"Were you bitten?" She asked fiercely. Her whole body trembled.

"No."

She examined him more thoroughly now. No bite marks but…abrasions. Bruises shaped like thumbprints blossomed on his biceps.

"Oh… Shane," she breathed, horrified. "What happened?"

His eyes wild, he looked her directly in the eyes, not saying a word.

Something told her she needed to tread  _very_ lightly. This felt like the CDC, only there was no yelling this time. No alcohol, no throwing bottles, but the flame of violence was bright in his eyes. Shane did something bad. Something  _real_  bad. She turned and closed the door quickly.

She chose her words carefully and spoke them with precision. "Okay. Don't tell me," she stated quietly, meeting his eyes. "First, we'll get you cleaned up… you'll need something with sleeves to cover… all this," she said, gesturing to his bare chest.

She inclined her head, indicating the clothing she carried. "These are…" she trailed off before saying Otis's name, as the pieces clicked into place. "They should be big enough," she choked, looking right back into his eyes.

He turned from her and put his hands on either side of the sink, bowing his head so as to avoid looking at himself in the mirror. His muscular back was rife with scratches. Emily's eyes widened, but she kept herself composed. She stepped to the left of him and the sink, touching his shoulder softly. Some of those scratches were moderately deep. Nothing serious, but they would have to be cleaned.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up," she said gently. He didn't move. "Shane, whatever happened… you saved Carl's life. You should know that."

He looked sideways at her, breathing heavily now.

"He's gonna be okay, you saved him," she emphasized, keeping her voice hushed. "But he would have died without those supplies, there's no question."

"You don't know what I did," Shane said, clenching his jaw.

"Listen, look at me," she said brokenly, hunching over to bring her face level with his, grasping his forearm tightly. "You did what you had to do to save that little boy and  _it was the right thing_ ," she said, looking him full in the face. "You did the right thing," she repeated, her vision blurring with tears.

She knew it sounded terrible. Something had happened between him and Otis, and though she didn't know specifics, Emily knew that in a choice between Otis's life and Carl's, Shane would have chosen Carl in a heartbeat.

In the end, there was nothing that made one life more important than another. The hardest part of life was never dying; it was dealing with the pain that came when others left you. That unendurable pain is exactly what Shane had caused the Greene's, and by the look in his crazed eyes, he felt precisely every ounce of that weighing on him.

He was quiet for a moment, his mouth twitching slightly. Finally, he said hoarsely, "You look pale."

"What? Oh, I…I just gave Carl some blood," she explained.

He continued to gaze at her, looking bemused now.

"Rick needed a break," she expounded. "Now, come on. Let's get you cleaned up," she said, guiding him to the shower. "I'll, um, I'll go get you a towel," she said, giving him some privacy to finish undressing.

She scurried downstairs to grab a towel, and after looking through the medical supplies to see what could be spared, she selected an almost empty bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a couple of cotton balls, and two small bandages. Taking a deep breath to quell her lightheadedness, she rushed back upstairs with her loot and knocked on the door.

"Shane? You done in there?" When there was no answer, she cracked the door open to find he was in the shower. "I'm gonna leave this towel for you on the counter, alright? Let me know when you're done and… I've got some stuff for your back, so just let me know, okay?" When he still didn't answer, she grew worried. "Shane?" she asked timidly. Upon hearing a loud THUD! from inside the shower, she dropped her things and shut the bathroom door. "Shane?" she called quietly but firmly. "I'm gonna check on you, okay? I'm- I'm coming in," she said, swallowing nervously. She peeked her head inside the curtain.

Shane was standing facing the wall, propped up on his left forearm with his right fist curled awkwardly into his chest, and a smear of bright red blood on the wall and across his knuckles.

"Are you trying to break your hand?!" she exclaimed.

Shane chuckled darkly.

Emily took a step back, taking a deep breath.  _What would I want?_  She wondered. She thought of something, but…  _Yeah, but what if what I want is crazy?_  She thought nervously. Well, crazy or not, Shane wouldn't like to think she had let her fear dictate her actions.  _Fine. Fuck it_.

She stripped down into her bra and underwear, not really even thinking anymore. She felt calm and oddly detached now that she had made her decision, and let her instincts take over.

She stepped into the tub behind him. Shane hadn't moved. Her feeling of calm faltered, and when her fear threatened to overwhelm her again ( _what if he gets angry?_  and  _I have no idea what I'm doing_ ), she pushed it away, relying on her instincts to help her out.

"Hey," she said, her low voice almost getting lost in the whisper of the water. "I'm gonna clean the cuts on your back, okay?" When he didn't respond, she began to worry, but then he slowly turned to face the faucet, leaning almost exclusively to his right. Emily found this strange, and looked down to his feet to see that his left ankle had turned a nasty shade of purple.  _He needs to get off of his feet, like, now,_  she thought nervously. She busied herself with quickly and carefully cleaning Shane's cuts, focusing on the deeper scratches that went up his sides and across his back.

This  _was_ one of the more unusual things she had ever done. She allowed herself a glance down at his naked form, before quickly returning to the task at hand. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she considered the fact that she was in the shower with a naked man, that she hadn't shaved her legs in months, and that this whole thing was just so utterly bizarre… she refocused on the cuts, hoping that whatever she was doing, she was doing it right.

— **-**

_Shane_

An hour ago, he killed a man.

Now, he was in the shower with a beautiful, dripping wet, half-naked ( _mostly-naked!_ ) girl.

If this was karma, if this was the universe's way of telling him he'd done the right thing… the universe was really,  _really_  fucked up.  _Everything about this is..._

At least he wasn't facing her. Her touch alone was almost too much to bear.  _Why does she care so much?_ Shane hated himself so much in that moment, and her careful ministrations on his back nearly undid him.

Why was it that in front of the one person he most wanted to be strong in front of, he felt the closest to coming apart? More so even than when he was alone?

And for one moment, his strength shifted, and it felt as if there was a crack in his heart and it was leaking… showing him glimpses of the pain, of the darkness.

 _No one's coming_ , he thought.  _What's the point of even trying? We're all going to die._

He had killed Otis, and for what? Carl would die eventually, too. He couldn't protect him forever. Fucking death monsters roamed the streets like it was nothing, and they weren't going away. He knew in his heart there was no cure. It was just about who could outlast the other, and he was just… tired.

Emily continued running her hands slowly over his back, although the soap was gone.

Slowly, lightly, her arms moved from his back to his sides, until they were wrapped gently around his middle. The soaked fabric of her bra brushed against his back.

There was a heavy lump in his throat. He eyed her over his shoulder. He felt very aware of his own stillness - afraid to move too much, and risk scaring her off.

And then, soft as anything, she laid her cheek against his back, closing her eyes tightly. So he closed his too.

Because the world was full of darkness, and that wasn't going away. Shane knew that without a doubt. But she made the darkness bearable. He couldn't get rid of it, but she could help him hold it. He squeezed one of her hands, rubbing his thumb slowly over her knuckles.

That was the moment, under the running stream of lukewarm water, that for the first time… he finally felt like he wasn't alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short update this week. If you feel like leaving a review, please let me know what your favorite part of the story was. I realize that I forgot to add this to my "profile" here, but I have added a gallery of photos/gifs for this story on photobucket. If you're interested, you can check it out at http://s1281.photobucket.com/user/Clair_de_Lune_13/library/DCYE


	16. Obligations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the late update! This chapter really got away from me, so I apologize for the wait. Please try to remember that at this point, it has been less than 24 hours since Shane murdered Otis, and he is suffering from acute stress disorder (or psychological shock, if you prefer), of which symptoms include "re-experiencing of the event by such ways as thoughts, dreams, and flashbacks," and "increased arousal," such as difficulty falling or staying asleep, anger, and hypervigilance. Also, I might as well say: content warning, sexual themes. When things start getting hot and heavy, you are free to skip a paragraph or two if you need. For the rest of you, it is my fervent hope that this makes the ranks of your mental spank bank. I hope you like the chapter.

 

**Day 69**

.

Jimmy, Beth, Patricia - each of them placed a rock on a growing pile while Hershel delivered his sermon. Each one of them, crying. Suffering.

_Shut it down, Shane._

But what was he supposed to do? Stand here, unmoved, while Hershel talked about how great a man Otis was? How he lived and died with grace?

Shane was struck with an involuntary flashback to the high school. He saw himself punching Otis, kicking him to the ground.

 _Self-defense!_ His brain screamed in protest.  _Carl! Emily! Rick! I had to-_

"Shane, will you speak for Otis?"

Shane's internal monologue was abruptly interrupted, and he looked up to meet Hershel's expectant face.

"I'm not good at it," he said hesitantly, and his voice broke at the end. This worked well, as it was not out of place at a funeral, and was interpreted by the group as sadness. Shane, however, knew it was due to the stress of the situation threatening to overwhelm him. He looked at the ground guiltily. "I'm sorry."

"You were the last one with him," Patricia said tearfully. "You shared his final moments… I need to know his death had meaning," she pleaded.

Shane took a shallow breath, preparing himself.  _Keep it vague. Shut it down._

"We were almost done, almost out," he said. He spoke with restraint, careful not to add any conflicting details. "We ran out of ammo, down to pistols by the end. I was limping, it was real bad, my ankle all swollen up," he went on, then paused.

What to say next?  _I shot him,_ he remembered. "'We gotta save the boy,' see that's what he said, and he told me to take his pack," Shane said, recalling a terrible pain and a ripping sound near his ear where Otis held on to Shane's hair for dear life. "He said, he said 'you go on ahead, I'll cover you from behind.' And when I looked back…"

He came back to the present, glancing at Patricia's face apprehensively. Should he go on? Would that be enough? The faces of the group looked at him, waiting for him to continue. They had all heard this before. He had to be more convincing.

"If not for Otis," he said loudly, limping to the pile of rocks, "I never would have made it. That goes for Carl too, Otis saved us both," he said, now breathless again at the flashbacks running through his mind. He remembered the terror, and the way he had so coldly removed himself from it, shooting Otis with no hesitation. Now, he felt everything: the anxiety, the anger, the sadness, and it consumed him like fire, licking gleefully at his insides.  _Shut it down, Shane. Spit it out. Say what she wants to hear._

"If there was ever any death that had meaning," Shane choked out, "it was his." He added his rock to the pile and limped back to his spot in the semi-circle.

Emily reached for his hand then, and he was engulfed in self-hatred. He jerked away from her, disgusted with himself. Her soft hand felt like  _pity_ , and he couldn't deal with it right now.

Emily's eyes widened in surprise, taken aback. Mashing her lips together in a tight line to keep them from trembling, she wrung her hands, just to give them something else to do.

.

* * *

.

"Hey, pass me that rock?"

Emily looked up to see Glenn, pointing to the small rock at her feet. She balanced the dry firewood in her left arm and handed him the stone.

"Thanks," he said, and proceeded to use the stone to hammer in the tent stakes.

"Ah, good idea," Emily complimented him, appreciating his ingenuity.

"Eh, what can I say, I got tired of jumping and missing," he said with a smile.

They both laughed, remembering the first time they had tried to set up the tents, when Emily noticed a bit of a kerfuffle over by the car. Emily shushed Glenn, so they could hear what was going on.

"With respect, if a herd of those things come through here, and we don't have guns? It won't end well," Shane said. It looked like he was directing his argument to Hershel.

"They want to go out there without guns?!" Emily whispered to Glenn.

Glenn shook his head and shrugged in response.

"We've managed so far to keep this place unarmed," Hershel responded. "I'd prefer it we keep it that way."

Emily looked from Shane to Hershel, to see what would happen, but it was Rick who spoke next.

"This is your property, and we will respect that," he said with authority. He took his gun from the holster and placed it on the hood of the car. He looked at Shane expectantly, until Shane placed his gun next to Rick's.

"He doesn't look too happy about that," Glenn said in a low voice. Rick's face looked impassive, but Shane's mouth was in a tight line, his jaw jutting out. He looked pissed.

"No he doesn't," Emily agreed, turning her attention back to the firewood.

"Gonna be an awkward night tonight, huh?" Glenn said, suppressing a smile.

Emily froze. She  _had_  stayed with Shane those couple of times back at their camp, but she hadn't realized that was common knowledge. Of course, she immediately thought back to last night. She had left him in the shower after embracing him, wanting to give him some privacy and needing the time to process her feelings. Her face felt hot, and she knew she must look red.

She realized she'd been silent for a beat too long. "It's not like that," she explained in a rush.

"But… you wish it was?" Glenn asked, a little too knowingly.

Emily looked up in surprise, meeting Glenn's eyes.

"Sorry, you can just see it," he explained, turning back toward the tent. "Kinda… the way you look at him?"

"How do I look at him?" Emily asked warily.  _How obvious_ ** _is_** _my girl-boner, exactly?_

"Mmm, like you wanna protect him or something. Which is weird, considering he's like, he-man," Glenn said by way of explanation.

Emily laughed with relief, and was reminded how grateful she was to have a friend like Glenn. Having this talk with anyone but him or Andrea would have felt incredibly awkward.

"Yeah," she agreed, smiling and looking down. "Maybe that's why…?" she trailed off, trying to justify the irrational feeling of wanting to protect him all the time. Glenn was right - he was, without question, the toughest guy of their group.

"So you like him, then?" Glenn asked, a hint of a smile still on his face.

"Are we doing this?" Emily asked exasperatedly. "Am I in middle school?"

"Come on, you do," he needled, his smile growing wider by the second.

Emily sighed, half annoyed and half amused. "Yeah, I guess? I don't know," she said, groaning at Glenn's hearty laugh. "I said I don't know!" Emily groused, lunging to hit Glenn and missing. "He's so hot and cold, it's not- ugh!" she finished, throwing her arms into the air, while Glenn continued to laugh.

Glenn's laughter stopped suddenly, and when Emily looked up to see why, she saw Hershel's daughter Maggie headed straight for him.

"I hear you're quick on your feet and know how to get in and out," Maggie said, without preamble.

Emily looked back to Glenn, who seemed to have forgotten how to speak.

"I'm making a pharmacy run," she continued, still addressing Glenn. "You in?"

Feeling as though she  _should_  just leave him to flounder after all his teasing, Emily decided to instead throw him a life preserver.

"He'd be glad to," she said to Maggie, smiling uncomfortably to cover Glenn's awkwardness.

"Great," Maggie responded, and looked back to Glenn. "I'll go saddle up your horse," she said, before turning to leave.

"Horse?" Glenn asked Emily, his voice cracking slightly.

Emily rolled her eyes at him before walking off in the other direction with her firewood. "Have fun!" she said brightly, not bothering to hide her smirk.

.

* * *

.

"You may like rolling over, but I don't," Andrea said with venom. Shane looked up to see Andrea stalking toward where he sat. Behind her, he saw Emily, who offered him a small, sheepish smile.

He sighed. Dealing with an Andrea outburst was not something he planned on today, and he'd like to keep it that way.

"I gotta strip 'em clean anyway, you still wanna learn?" He asked patiently. She joined him at the picnic table with a huff, which he took to be her acquiescence, while Emily swayed uncertainly.

"What about you, you remember what I taught ya?" Shane asked Emily, before she could run off. Emily nodded. "Well then, why don't  _you_ show her?"

"Um, okay," she said, sitting down at the picnic table next to Andrea. "Well, first you unload your weapon," Emily recited. Andrea followed the directions but did so while pointing the gun at Shane, who quickly corrected her.

"Next you push the chamber back, and then… you push that lever out? Right?" she asked, looking to Shane for confirmation, who nodded. "Right, and then that just slips off," she said confidently, helping Andrea take apart the gun.

Instead of watching Andrea dismantle the gun correctly, his eyes drifted to Emily. Gone was the timid girl who scurried to his tent for protection, afraid to be outside. He continued to observe her thoughtfully, itching to touch her the way she had touched him last night. A sudden surge of affection for her bloomed in his stomach, tempered with a reluctant sadness she hadn't stayed.

It was easier now, to see the things he had tried to ignore at first. The dimples in her chin when she smiled a certain way, the way she wrinkled her nose sometimes… Jesus, he sounded like he had his first crush or something.  _Get over yourself._

But it was getting harder and harder to deny the fact that he actually liked her, and his stomach contracted in a way he wasn't entirely comfortable with.

Emily moved to pull her hair back, exposing the slender line of her neck. He couldn't stop himself from imagining grabbing that ponytail while he took her from behind…

Okay, so that surge of affection also came with a side order of lust.

She had gone to him last night. Why hadn't he just turned around and  _seen_  her, pushed her against the wall and appreciated everything she had to offer? Oh right, because he was a monster. The thought of her even wanting to be near him was laughable. She was too good, too… _clean_. She didn't deserve all the baggage he came with.

All the same, it couldn't hurt just to look. His mouth flirted with a smile, watching her go appreciatively, while his pants got uncomfortably tight.

He noticed something shift to his right, and turned to see Dale, staring at him.

"What can I do for you, old man?" he asked, his lips still curled in that same, appreciative smile, as he reluctantly tore his eyes away from Emily's retreating form.

Dale just shook his head judgmentally, pursing his lips at Shane, before turning around and walking away.

"Hey! I asked you somethin'!" Shane said truculently, stalking towards Dale.

"I just… thought I saw something, that's all," Dale explained in a subdued voice. "Nothing to worry about," he mollified. Shane stared at him skeptically, and Dale's eyes flicked to Emily and Andrea quickly, betraying his projected sense of calm.

Shane looked to the girls, and then back to Dale, before scoffing and shaking his head derisively.

"Hey Slim," Shane called out, limping after the Emily and Andrea.

Emily looked around confusedly before meeting Shane's gaze.

"Yeah you," Shane clarified with a smirk. "I'm gonna check out this well situation, you wanna come?"

Emily exchanged a glance with Andrea and shrugged. "You've got a gun, right?"

Shane rested his hands on the glock in his belt and looked back and Emily, who said goodbye to Andrea and began jogging over to meet him.

Shane turned to look directly at Dale. "Guess we'll see you around," he said, jeeringly.

Dale seemed struck, watching the entire exchange with a look of heavy disapproval, but said nothing as Emily reached Shane and they took off walking toward the well on the far side of the property.

* * *

 

"So, what's up? Everything okay?" Emily asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, everything's fine."

Emily smiled and raised her eyebrows skeptically.

"Dale's just pissin' me off," Shane elaborated.

"Oh, come on, he means well. He just worries, is all. it makes him, a little…" Emily trailed off.

"Nah, he doesn't like me at  _all_ ," Shane said.

"Why, what'd he say?" she asked curiously.

"Nothin," he said, shaking his head. "Just gives me the stink eye every time we talk," he said, gesturing between Emily and himself. He raised his eyebrows, the hint of a smile on his face.

Emily sighed, processing this new information, then let out a breath of laughter. "Well, in a messed up way, that's almost kinda sweet."

"Sweet? Wow," he said with mock surprise. "I didn't think he was your type."

"Shane," she said, smacking his arm. "Gross."

"Hey, I'm just sayin', if you're into it…"

"Oh come on," she said, shoving his shoulder again. "He never had kids, and I didn't realize he cared so much, so yeah, it is sweet," she retorted. "Even if it is unnecessary."

"Unnecessary?" Shane countered. "I'm the anti-Rick. I'm hot-headed."

Emily looked up at him skeptically.

"Nobody trusts me!" he snapped.

"Okay," Emily said sarcastically.

"You mean to say you aren't at ALL worried about being alone in the woods with me?"

"Nope," Emily said, popping the p. She looked up to see Shane looking at her skeptically. "What are you gonna do, side-eye me to death? Yes, I'm very worried," she quipped, rolling her eyes.

Shane actually grinned, eyeing Emily with interest. He licked his lips. "Alright, Missy. Touché."

They walked in silence for a moment, and Emily enjoyed the successful feeling of winning an argument.

"You do know why he's worried, don't you?" Shane said, interrupting her thoughts.

Emily looked at him questioningly, not knowing what he meant.

"I'm allowed upstairs to shower, you show up with wet hair… I assume you're sleepin' in the RV these days?" he asked, an air of accusation in his tone.

Her heart rate picked up.  _Oh. So we_ ** _are_** _going to talk about it?_

"No," she answered slowly, trying to figure out the meaning behind his words. "I stayed with Carol last night."

Shane nodded, and the unsaid things between them seemed to hang heavily in the humid air.

"I get it," he said finally, avoiding her eyes.

"Do you?" Emily said, stopping their walk and turning to face him. "Because I don't." She took a deep breath, examining his face. He looked slightly apprehensive. "I'm trying to help, but I can't figure you out."

Shane looked away, a grimace on his face.

"What's going on with you?" she asked, shaking her head slightly. This morning-

"Did you think maybe I had bigger things to worry about this morning?"

"Look, Shane, I don't know what happened-

Shane made an angry noise and turned away, attempting to leave.

"And I didn't ask! I'm still not asking," she said emphatically, grabbing his arm and pulling him back.

"So fucking what! What does that even mean?" he said, yanking his arm back from her.

"It means you don't owe me an explanation!" Emily said fiercely.

This pulled Shane up short, and she took the brief respite to take a calming breath.

"Some dude shot Carl," she went on in a quieter voice, "and  _you_  stepped up. It wasn't your responsibility to save him," she said in a wobbly voice, starting to feel emotional. Shane's face softened. "But you did. Nobody… nobody forced Otis to go."

"I'd be dead if he didn't," Shane said, his eyebrows furrowing tensely.

Emily struggled with herself for a moment, then squared her shoulders. "Then I'm glad he went."

"Man, don't… Don't say that," he said, shaking his head and looking away from her.

"Why?" she asked, challenging him.

"Because I killed Otis!" Shane said in a harsh whisper. He turned around, stepped away from her and then stepped back, as if changing his mind on the spot. His breath was coming in hard pants. "I shot him and left him as bait," he bit out angrily, getting closer and closer to Emily until he was right in her face. "I listened to him die," he said, his voice cracking at the end.

Emily took several shuddering breaths, attempting to steady herself. Hearing him recount the horror of that night, seeing him fall apart in the shower, that was  _nothing_  compared to the raw vulnerability on his face now. He looked so angry, and so broken. She couldn't find words to comfort him.

For a long moment, they were both silent. Shane looked to Emily, waiting for her response. Emily, unable to think of one thing that could possibly help, said nothing.

Shane bowed his head, breathing hard through his nose, and nodded with a clenched jaw. "Yeah, that's what I thought," he said coldly.

He started to turn away, disgusted with himself. But before he could, he felt hot hands on his neck pulling him forward, and in less than a second he was met with Emily's lips, meeting his in a desperate kiss. He could feel her hands trembling, her hard breathing. His pulse beat wildly under her fingers.

Rushing forward, grabbing her waist, he kissed her back. In a cold, dead world, she felt like fire beneath his hands, scorching hot against his lips. He sucked her mouth greedily, and she matched him in intensity. He had thought about kissing Emily, what her lips might feel like, how it would come about, but he never imagined this. And yet, this made so much sense. Of  _course_  this was what he needed, and suddenly the idea that he didn't need Emily was laughable.

Her hands snaked over his body, appreciating his hard physique with her fingers. She sucked at his lips, their mingled, hot breaths feeding her insatiable need. Even though they were outside, they had little time and anyone could spot them, and that this was supposed to be wrong - it didn't feel wrong _._ His body was warm and solid against hers, and it was eliciting emotions from her she had forgotten how to feel. She couldn't get enough of him, gorging herself on his taste. Her hands streaked across his broad chest, his hard stomach, but when they reached his belt buckle, he was yanked back to reality with a painful snap.

He snatched her wrist and held it tightly. "You're playing with fire," he said, breathing hard.

"Shut up," she breathed, fisting her other hand in his shirt and pulling him into her. His weight knocked her backwards into a tree, and she continued, undeterred by the collision.

His hands found her hips, and he squeezed them possessively, pressing himself against her as much as he could. Her breathy moan hit the back of his throat and gripped her harder, kissed her deeper. His hands found her butt, squeezing in earnest, and she reached her arms over his shoulders, raising her chest to find friction against his. Shane let out a muffled moan and gripped her thigh, pulling her leg up by the knee and hitching it around his hips, falling deeper into Emily. Every instinct he had was telling him to drive into her as deep as he could, to mark her, to make her his.

His fingers slipped under the band of her jeans and felt nothing but skin.

"You always go commando, sweetheart?" he said, his mouth against her jaw.

Emily just moaned breathily. Her movements were frenzied, revealing a fire he had suspected but not yet seen. It took everything he had not to take her right here against this tree.

"Em," he groaned. "We can't-

She nipped his bottom lip between her teeth, then kissed him hungrily. "But I want-

"They're waiting-

"Unh-

"At the well-

She caught his lips again and began kissing him in earnest, effectively silencing him. His hand made its way into her pants, feeling her, already warm and slick. He groaned. Worried about the possible walker situation but unable to help himself, Shane slipped a finger into Emily, who let out a loud, breathy moan.

She moved to kiss him again, but he shifted away. She opened her eyes in surprise and saw him watching her, hungrily. She swallowed back a question at the intensity in his face, and instead renewed her grip on him, her nails leaving little half-moon marks in his shoulders. She fought to keep her eyes open, but Shane's palm hit the part of her that craved friction, and his fingers reached where she ached to be filled. Her head lolled back onto the tree and she bit down on her bottom lip hard, overwhelmed by the cresting wave of pleasure gripping her. Shane continued to thrust his hand into her, feeding the exquisite tension in her abdomen until it broke with a heavy shudder.

That was it - he was done. He never wanted to see anything else again, other than her face as she unraveled before him. Her hands slowly loosened their grip on his shoulders and her eyes opened dazedly, but he was unwilling to relinquish his hold on her. His hand slipped out of her pants but wrapped snugly around her waist, the other still supporting him against the tree.

She exhaled shakily, meeting his eyes. The set of his brow was relaxed, a devious glint in his eye.

A rustle of leaves stole Shane's attention, and he held her tighter as he turned his head to investigate. He could just make out Dale's figure through the trees about a hundred feet away.

"Emily? Shane? Everything okay back there?" he asked, making his way back to them.

"Aw yeah, Emily here's just a little dehydrated," Shane lied easily, meeting Emily's gaze. "Didn't want to let her overdo it," he said with a casual grin, his eyes mischievous. Emily's face burned, her skin still buzzing where Shane had been.

"You okay, Emily?" Shane's answer apparently meant nothing to Dale, who continued striding toward them anxiously.

"Just… lost my breath, is all," Emily answered breathlessly.

"Well we better get you some water, you look flushed," Dale said, looking worried. "If you're feeling lightheaded already, you shouldn't exert yourself," he said with concern.

"How 'bout it," Shane said, turning to face her with a full on grin on his face. "You want a ride?"

Emily didn't have to pretend to be suffering from heat stroke now. From the first orgasm she'd had in months, to almost getting caught by  _Dale_ , she felt like she could faint just to avoid having to answer either of them. She eyed Shane, giving him her best "are you  _kidding_  me?" face, but unable to banish a smile completely.

"I'm fine!" she said, taking a wobbly step forward.

"You better sit down," Dale remarked, his forehead creasing with worry.

"But Dale," Shane said in mock seriousness, "She needs water!" He turned his head toward Emily now. "C'mon, hop on," he said working to keep his face neutral. He wanted to laugh so badly. Emily certainly  _was_  flushed, and he loved it. He lowered himself so Emily could hop onto his back. He hoisted her up, grabbing her thighs firmly.

"You sure?" Dale asked skeptically, looking to Emily, rather than Shane, for confirmation.

"She don't weigh nothin', I got it," Shane replied. "Don't tire yourself out."

"Thanks, Dale," Emily said with a smile, and giggled when Shane gave her thigh another clandestine squeeze.

Dale mashed his lips together in consternation, but said nothing as they made their way to the well.


	17. Don't Drink the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit, that took a while. I lost inspiration for a little. Found it - it was on Netflix.

**Day 69**

.

"What is  _that_?" Emily asked, thoroughly disgusted.

"Eugh, I think he looks that way because of the water…" T-Dog explained, trailing off.

"That is horrifying," she said, fighting back nausea.

"Who wants to shoot it?" T-Dog asked the group at large.

"We can't shoot it, it'll contaminate the water supply," Dale responded quickly.

"Dale's right," Shane sighed. "We'll have to get it out, and then kill it up here."

"You want to pull it out  _alive_?" T-Dog asked dubiously.

"So to speak," Dale added uneasily.

.

* * *

.

The canned ham dangled uselessly in front of the walker trapped in the well, who barely seemed to notice it.

"Doesn't look like he's interested," Maggie noted.

"A canned ham don't kick and scream when you try to eat it," T-Dog said disdainfully. Glenn and Emily exchanged looks. Emily opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when she felt a hand grip her wrist. She looked up to see Shane, whose mouth was pressed into a thin line. He jerked his head once, his eyes boring into her. Even without words, he made himself clear. Emily opened her mouth to protest and was, once again, interrupted.

"It's okay. I'm faster and stronger anyway, I know it has to be me," Glenn said, taking a big breath.

"Maybe stronger, but not faster," Emily disagreed. "And I'm smaller-"

"Which is great, when we need someone to squeeze through something small. Not so much here," Glenn countered. Emily knew he was right, but that didn't help ease her feeling of frustration and, secretly, relief. She looked at Glenn apologetically, who smiled in response.

.

* * *

.

"Did I mention I really like your new haircut? You have a nice-shaped head," Glenn said as Shane secured the rope around him, his voice a tad higher than usual.

"Don't worry, we'll pull you out in one piece," Shane assured him. Unfortunately, while lowering Glenn down the well, the pipe they wrapped the rope around for leverage broke. (Contingency plans. Shane's motherfucking favorite.) In this case, however, there wasn't enough time even for a plan B. The group pulled their hardest, desperate to keep Glenn alive. Emily's hands burned from the rope. Finally, luckily, Glenn heaved himself up over the side of the well, where he lay panting from the effort.

"Don't worry, son," Dale wheezed, "we'll come up with something else."

"Something else?" Glenn panted, a hint of smugness around his features. "You think I did all that for nothing?"

They all looked down into the well and, sure enough, Glenn had indeed managed to wrap the walker up in the rope.

Ten minutes from now, when the rope tears the walker in half and its innards fall with a splash back into the well, the others will pat Glenn sympathetically on the shoulder, giving him their best, apologetic, "sorry we lowered you into that hell hole and you almost got eaten" faces. But for right now, Glenn is pretty damn proud of himself.

.

* * *

.

"There's a big difference between hitting a tin can and a moving target. You gotta be focused. Adrenaline will cripple you if you let it," Shane said to Andrea, Emily, and Carol as the four of them scouted the woods around the farm for an acceptable target practice location. Emily and Carol continued ahead, but Andrea drifted behind, looking for a moment alone with Shane.

"How do  _you_  keep your adrenaline from crippling you?" Andrea asked quietly.

"Detach," Shane said methodically. "Detach from all the things that make you  _feel_  - your anger, fear, sympathy, you gotta let it go, man. You gotta make the call and then stick to it. 'Cuz odds are, somebody else is countin' on you. Either it's your partner, or it's your friend…" he trailed off, his eyes drifting to Emily.

"There ain't nothin easy about takin' a man's life," Shane continued, snapping himself out of it. "No matter how little value it may have. But once you do it, you have to forget it," he said emphatically.

He looked up and found Andrea looking at him sympathetically, and he automatically felt self-conscious. "I guess I haven't quite got there yet," he offered. The hot sun gave him an excuse to keep his eyes squinted, and his face guarded.

"But you're getting there," Andrea said, not unkindly.

"I hope so," Shane replied, with a small amount of trepidation. What did that smile mean? Was it purely sympathetic, or did she suspect him? Could she know? Andrea walked forward to join Carol and Emily at the distant fence, and Shane's question remained firmly seated in the back of his mind.

During the long walk to and from the small field Shane determined would serve as their target practice, Emily did her best to get a handle on her thoughts and emotions. The most obvious and easily identifiable was the overwhelming urge to look at Shane, to sneak glances at him, to smile at him. But she also felt a weird twisting in her stomach at some moments that she thought might be guilt. Or was she just worried? She tried to sort through it. Now, on their way back to the farm, she kept hearing Shane's words:  _I killed Otis._  She had known  _something_  happened, but she hadn't allowed herself to think on it. Not knowing would be easier. But now she did know, and she was starting to obsess over it.

_I killed Otis._

At the time, she really thought what happened, probably, was: things went bad, and Shane had to leave without Otis, unable to wait for him. But why?

_I shot him and left him as bait._

Well, that part was pretty clear. Emily winced at the thought. But Shane wouldn't have killed someone just to kill them, right? If nothing else, from a purely objective standpoint, he wouldn't have wasted the bullets, and she knew he came home empty. He wouldn't have done what he did unless things got really bad. At the end of the day, Shane's priority was Carl. Walkers threatened that priority, and Shane made a decision. But did he make the right call?

She glanced at him again. What if Otis were here instead, and Shane were gone? Her stomach dropped. Although, from what she heard from Shane, they wouldn't have made it back anyway if Shane hadn't done something. That meant no Carl, either.

_Alright_ , she resolved.  _He did the right thing._  She sighed. It wasn't easy, by any means, but she knew in her heart what she truly believed: that he did what he had to do. So, that was that, then. She agreed with his decision and wouldn't judge him for it.

"Hey. You."

Emily looked up, disoriented from coming out of the daze of her thoughts. Andrea was looking at her inquisitively.

"You okay?" Andrea asked.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine," Emily reassured her.

"You're quiet today," Andrea observed.

"Just thinkin'," Emily answered evasively.

"About Shane?" Andrea hedged.

Emily looked up quickly, her eyes flicking to Shane and back. She opened her mouth to deny it, then stopped herself. There was no point. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, slightly embarrassed.

"Don't be embarrassed. I think you guys are good together," Carol said kindly, from Andrea's other side.

"There's nothing- I mean, we're not…" Emily sighed. She looked from Andrea to Carol and back again, trying to think of how to honestly describe the situation, and came up with nothing.

"You're not… what?" Andrea asked curiously, waiting for Emily to finish her sentence.

"Umm… I guess I don't really know," Emily admitted. "But I think it's going well?"

The three of them turned to look discreetly back at Shane, who was marking some trees around the area.

"Well… you coulda done worse," Andrea said appreciatively, as all three of them watched Shane stand up. His large muscles flexed as he tied a bandana around one of the trees.

"So have you guys hooked up yet?" Andrea asked conspiratorially.

"Oh my god," Emily said in response, covering her face with her hands.

"Andrea," Carol chastised lightly, trying to hold back a smile of her own. "If she wants to tell us, she will."

"No she won't! Look at her, she's already bright red. Come on, Em, I want details," Andrea said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Emily was wrong. This conversation was  _way_  more awkward with Andrea. Although it probably would have been less awkward had it come about differently. And if she weren't worried about Shane overhearing.

"Jesus Christ, why does everyone care so much?" she hissed under her breath, hoping that Shane wasn't listening. She willed Andrea to lower her voice. He wasn't  _that_  far away.

"Wow, that good, huh?" Andrea said, smirking.

Emily huffed her exasperation.

"Leave the poor girl alone," Carol chided. She pulled Andrea forward with her, giving Emily a small nod and looking to Shane. Emily turned and walked the few feet back to Shane, happy to leave the conversation. A thought prickled the back of her mind- what if Lori found out? Well, that was stupid - of course Lori would find out. But would she care?  _Of course she won't care_ , Emily thought nervously.  _She has her husband now!_  And Shane? Did Shane still care about Lori?  _Noo, probably not. I don't think so?_

"Hey," Emily addressed Shane, somewhat shyly.

"Hey, yourself," Shane responded.

Emily wrestled with herself to come up with something,  _anything_ , to say, other than what was on her mind.

"You okay?" Great. After all her internal struggle, that was the most brilliant thing she could come up with? She was a frickin' genius.

Shane looked at her appraisingly, his face relaxed. "I'm not doin' bad," he said, his lips turning up slightly.

Emily's heart accelerated. Why did he have to look at her like that, right as she was trying to get her thoughts together?

"I just wanted to make sure… with what we talked about earlier…" Emily trailed off lamely.  _Super good idea, Emily. Let's bring up Otis,_  she thought, mentally smacking herself.

Shane's face fell, his smile gone. "I thought we ended things on a good note."

Emily blushed fiercely. "I- well, yeah I- I- that's not-"

Shane's smirk reappeared. "Look at you, flustered. That all it take to keep you from bossing me around? I'll have to try that more often," Shane said, his smirk growing wider.

If possible, Emily turned even redder. "That is not - !" She abruptly clamped her lips shut. Now all she could think about was getting Shane alone again. This was his fault.

"No comeback?" Shane asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut up," Emily said, pinching the bridge of her nose and trying not to smile. "I am trying very hard not to prove you right."

Shane barked a laugh, and then his smirk faded into something less definable. "You're going to be hard to stay away from."

Emily swallowed back against the sudden dryness in her throat. The temerity of his statement took her off guard, but she didn't want to get her hopes up so quickly. "And since when have you ever done the easy thing?" She scoffed, feigning indifference.

"Are you callin' yourself easy?" he asked invitingly.

Emily's breathing sped up. "What? No." She resisted the urge to bite her lip. When had he gotten so  _close_  to her?

"Well, then," Shane said huskily, coming toe to toe with Emily. Emily took a shallow breath, then another. He glanced down at her lips and back up to her eyes.

.

* * *

.

"What do you think they're talking about?" Carol asked Andrea. Andrea turned to look. Emily and Shane hadn't even started walking yet, and were standing very close together.

"I don't know, but I think they're having a moment," Andrea replied sardonically.

"Ahem, hem," she fake coughed loudly, getting their attention.

_._

* * *

_._

_"Ahem, hem_." Emily jumped back with a start, looking around for the source of the noise. She saw Andrea waggling her eyebrows suggestively, before she walked away with Carol, giggling. Emily brushed her hair from her suddenly burning face and looked anywhere else but Shane. "Guess we better get back." Fuck these stupid thoughts in her head, fuck this stupid insecurity. She was so stupid - she couldn't be insecure about something that didn't even _exist_.

Although it did exist - existed in his eyes as they bore into her, until she fell apart against that tree. Existed in the thin line of his mouth as he refused to let her put herself in danger at the well. If she were being honest, it sprang into existence the first time he let her stay in his tent, and rubbed soothing circles against her temples until she fell asleep. And she didn't know what it was, but she didn't want to lose it.

"What's wrong?" Shane asked, grabbing her arm to stop her.

Emily looked up, faking surprise. "Oh, nothing."

"Don't 'Oh nothing' me, just two seconds ago you were fine and now you won't look at me." He looked up at Carol and Andrea's retreating forms. "Did they say somethin' to you?" He asked, his forehead creasing with concern.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Then what?"

Emily sighed, not sure how to go about this. "Listen, I'm not trying to be like… um…" she faltered.

Shane stayed uncharacteristically silent, waiting for her to continue speaking.

"I... Maybe we're moving too fast," she said, trying her best to keep the despondency out of her tone. What she really wanted to say was, "are you in love with someone else?" but if this was as close as she could get, she supposed it wasn't that bad.

Shane crossed his arms, his face impassive but for the jumping muscle in his jaw, betraying his falsely calm front.

"Why would you say that?" he said, his teeth gritted together to tamp down on his anger.

Emily worried her lip between her teeth, alarmed at the way her heart pounded frantically against her chest.

"Because I don't know how to say what I want to say," she admitted quietly.

Shane regarded her uncertainly. "Lemme ask you somethin'," he drawled, drifting slowly closer to her. "Did you enjoy yourself earlier?"

She couldn't look at him. She couldn't give him that vulnerability - he had too much else.

"Don't you do that to me," he growled, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him, and she wondered briefly if he could read her mind. "Don't you go lookin' at the ground. You haven't done that in weeks and I don't… I don't… Shit, Em', just don't do that."

She stared up at him, her mouth slightly open. She'd had no idea her retreats inside herself - her attempt at numbing, and staying the optimistic, fun girl they expected her to be - had affected him so much.

"Will you just tell me what you want?" he asked more quietly, dropping her arm. "Do  _you_  wanna slow down?" Except the way he said it, it was like he had already accepted that she did.

"I don't really know where we stand!" she blurted out, looking quickly away from his surprise and down at her hands. "And I didn't think I cared, or whatever, but um… well I guess I do."

"That it?" Shane asked, his voice light. "You want me to take you on a date? Meet your parents?" he smirked.

"Forget it," she bit out, turning away before the hurt showed on her face.

"Hey!" he said, catching her shoulder. She stopped, but didn't turn around. "I was just… bein' an asshole. I'm serious, what do you need? Some flowers? A repeat performance?"

Emily smiled in spite of herself. "That second option sounds pretty good."

"Damn right it does," Shane said gruffly, before capturing her mouth in his. The kiss was brief, ended before Emily had a chance to do more than taste his lips, because Andrea was yelling something through the trees.

"Go home, Andrea," Shane mumbled against her lips.

"I'm not kidding, we're supposed to get a real dinner tonight and if we miss it because of  _you-"_

"Al _right,"_  Shane shouted back, his anger surfacing at the edge of his words. "You giant fucking cockblock," he muttered, holding Emily's hand and pulling her along with him. Emily couldn't suppress the giggle that bubbled from her throat, and when Shane turned his head to face her, she could see amusement written all over his face.  
.

* * *

.

After their long trek through the backwoods, Emily was looking forward to sitting down for a while. Maybe fixing her thoughts into a somewhat relevant order. Making her way up to the house, she spied Glenn in the distance, sitting on the porch and playing a guitar. She smiled, looking forward to having a moment to sit down and catch up with him. She particularly wanted his side of the story about the walker in the well this morning, and how he managed to get that rope around it.

At that moment, Maggie came out of the house, and Emily slowed down considerably, not wanting to interrupt. She watched as Glenn leaned up against the house, clearly flirting with Maggie, and Emily let out a breath of laughter, happy to see Glenn so confident with her. Unfortunately, Emily had barely gone ten feet (admittedly, a very slow ten feet) before Maggie left to go back inside, leaving Glenn looking confused and dejected. Emily sped up, eager to reach her friend now, her brow creasing lightly with concern.

Glenn looked up and saw Emily striding toward him. "Hot and cold?" he called out to her, his arms flapping frustratedly around him. "Man, fuck hot and cold," he continued quietly, slumping back into his original sitting position. He looked like he'd very much like to kick something.

Emily smiled ruefully and sat next to him on the porch, mirroring Glenn and resting her arms on her knees. "I'm tryna tell ya," Emily said with an exaggerated southern accent, shaking her head slowly back and forth.

They sat together like that for a moment, looking out over the expanse of land and sky, watching the sun set. Admiring the streaks of orange and red through the thin clouds, Emily marveled at how beautiful and simple things could be. Throughout the country, and the world, she imagined, corpses rose from the dead and ate the living, and yet… The world still turned. The sun still set. Time continued to march forward, unaffected.

"She'll come around. You're a good guy," she supplied.

"She  _did_  come…around," Glenn stuttered, blushing. "But then she, just… I don't get it!"

"You and me both." They were both quiet for a moment.

"Although…" Emily looked around, before confiding in Glenn. "Not to brag, but in my "hot and cold" situation, I'm currently experiencing a heatwave."

"Ah," Glenn said, his eyebrows raised. "Does this have anything to do with why it took you guys so long to meet us at the well?"

Emily smiled and blushed. "It may or may not have something to do with why we were late to the well."

"Nice," said Glenn. "You should probably take some of these," he said, handing her a condom.

Emily turned, shocked, to Glenn. "What?! How did- we didn't- but- did you and…???"

"Take two. God knows I'm not using them." He handed her another, and then pretended to shiver. "Brrrr. It's a cold front."


End file.
